Artemis Fowl: The Sword of God
by AgiVega
Summary: Sequel to the Aztec Incident. Despite having Holly at his side, Artemis is depressed, he cannot overcome the loss of his genius. Only time can heal him... in both senses of the word. AU
1. Prologue

**Summary:** the grief over the loss of his genius has built invisible walls between Artemis and Holly that not even the fairy's eternal love can break down. Only something radical can help - or force - Artemis to sort out his priorities, but will he be able to handle it or will he let himself be defeated by despair?

**AUTHOR'S NOTES (please read):** this is the sequel to my first AF fic, _Artemis Fowl: The Aztec Incident_. If you haven't read that one, don't even start on this one, because you won't understand most of it.

There are some mentions in this fic referring to things that happened in the A/H smutfic, _Welcome in heaven_, but don't worry, save a few little details, you will understand this fic even if you haven't read that one (btw, I was most delighted to see that the smutfic got over 4000 hits on adultffnet… no other AF fic on that site got that many.)

This fic is _**only based on the first three AF books and The Aztec Incident,**_ so nothing in it relates to anything that happened in The Opal Deception. Root is still alive, and Holly is still officially a LEP fairy.

Many of you wrote me reviews and emails over the spring and the summer, requesting that I start uploading this fic ASAP. That's something I couldn't do. The reason? Well, the plot of this one is much more complicated than that of the Aztec Incident, so I couldn't afford to make a mistake. Had I started to post the fic when only a few chapters were written, I could have made huge mistakes, and several of them. It's like this: when I was ready with eight chapters, I suddenly realised that the fic should take place in 2016 not 2014 and I had to re-write several parts because of it. That is something I couldn't have done if the first eight chapters had been up here already. Once I read a very good guide to 'how to write a decent fanfic', and one of the rules was: _never start uploading your fic before it's fully written_. I wholeheartedly agree with it.

I must warn you to _**be careful with the reading**_, especially with the dates, because I will be jumping back and forth in time and you might get lost and confused if you're not paying attention. This ' jumping back and forth tactic' might remind some of you of one of my Harry Potter fics, _If The Fates Allow_, but I'll be doing it even more frequently in this story.

_**To all the Arty/Holly fans:**_ this story isn't as romantic as the first one. It has much less A/H in it, for rather obvious reasons (you'll see what those are later). Therefore, this fic is a bit more 'innocent' than its predecessor. Only chapter 17 has a bit of 'strong PG-13' material, but not even that can be considered naughty.  
This is more of a 'father and son' fanfic than a romance one, but don't worry, you'll still get a few sweet A/H moments.

Also, I wrote most of this story shortly after I saw _Revenge of the Sith_ that brought back my long-gone Star Wars mania, so there will be loads of SW references in it (and a few Harry Potter ones too). Grin and bear it :)

I got several requests over the summer to write a long Harry Potter fic based on HBP, but I refused, saying that I had to devote all my attention to this sequel. I hope you AF fans appreciate my decision and reward it with many-many reviews!

All in all, this is a story darker, eviler and more complex than the Aztec Incident. If I haven't managed to scare you away, then fasten your seatbelts, we're taking off!

**I'd like to say thanks to:**  
-Mum for the plot beta  
-Eve for the grammar beta  
-Kati for proof reading  
-Members of my yahoogroup for their occasional help with various terms  
-Michael for his constant help

**Disclaimer:** the Artemis Fowl universe belongs to Eoin Colfer, Star Wars belongs to George Lucas, Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. I only own my OC's. Many characters that appear in this story come from Hun legends and I don't know for sure whether they indeed existed or were made up. Attila existed for sure…

**Dedication:** _To Michael (septempopuli), for being the best online friend one could wish for_

**

Artemis Fowl: The Sword of God

**

_by AgiVega_

**Chapter 1 / Prologue**

_Around 440 A.D._

In the heart of Pannonia, among the hills of Pilis, there was a deep, circular valley. Hawthorn and briar bushes grew all over its edges, forming a ringlet of shrubbery around the clearing in the middle. A crystal clear brook wound its way across the valley, its shores covered with sky-blue forget-me-nots. In the centre of the clearing, surrounded by several eglantine bushes, babbled a tiny spring - 'Well of the Fairy Lady', as everyone called it.

As the legend says, the clearing had once been home to fairies. Sometimes people who happened to venture across this picturesque valley swore they had seen the tiny magic creatures. "I've seen one, honestly! It was a female with long red hair and pointed ears! She was just sitting there by the spring, weaving a wreath of wild roses! When she spotted me, she disappeared, and nothing remained of her but a shimmer in the air and the half-woven wreath!"

Most people only laughed at such tales, but others never doubted they were true. And true they were, indeed.

This was a time when the human population was growing at such a rate that the fairies decided to leave this world and move underground. Most fairy families had moved underground centuries before, but some of them were still too attached to the healthy breeze, the fragrant flowers and daylight (even though they avoided getting in direct contact with the sunrays). 

The 'rebels' as the underground fairies called them, always found a reason for staying above ground, even though anyone could see that their reasoning was anything but well-founded. Some even called them liars and lunatics who'd do anything to get themselves noticed by the Mud People. But they were neither liars nor lunatics… merely dreamers. Dreamers, who loved watching the moon and the stars on cloudless nights, revelled in lying down under a tree and breathe in the fresh scent of the wildflowers or listening to the concert of nightingales. 

Fiona Springwater was one of these rebels.

And, for the time being, she felt more rebellious than ever. In fact, she was seething with rage as she pushed the branch of a bramble bush out of her way. How dare they? - she fumed. Those stupid, stupid fairies and their stupid marriage laws! How dare they force her to marry someone she didn't even know? How dare they rob her of her freedom?

She waded through the tiny creek, blinded with anger to such an extent that she didn't even notice her feet get wet.

Rage and grief were stifling her.

Her father had recently passed away (she had never known her mother who had died when she'd been a baby), and now, according to the idiotic fairy law, she was to get married to the elf her father had decades earlier promised her hand to. When she'd got engaged (unbeknownst to her) she'd only been forty - a mere child - and now that she was of age and should be free to live her life as she pleased, she couldn't, because the promise of her father bound her. And she had thought that fairy laws were modern and fairies were open-minded compared to the Mud People! How wrong she had been! She'd been living in an illusory world, and now she found out that all her father had left for her was a few dozen fairy coins and an obligation to marry this… this… Alex-what's-his-name-again. Marry an elf whom she'd never ever met, and who - to her utter horror - _lived underground_.

She angrily kicked a nearby stone and flopped down on the ground, in the shadow of a hawthorn bush. She looked around, and her heart clenched at the thought of having to leave all this beauty and move into some stuffy hole in the bowels of earth, where, besides her 'husband', she'd have no one as company but a few worms. Here she had everything she ever wanted; there she'd have nothing.

Tears began running down her cheeks. She hid her face in her palms, and wept silently.

She didn't know how long she'd been oblivious to the outside world - it must have been several minutes. She only got shaken back to reality when she heard some clinking sound, followed by a soft thump and a deep sigh.

She wiped her tears, her curiosity taking over her grief, and peeked out from behind the bush. As she'd expected, it was a Mud Man. The clinking sound must have been caused by the sword and various metal weapons that hung from his belt. The thump must have been due to the fact that he'd dropped himself on a fallen tree trunk. As for the sigh, Fiona didn't need to have a particularly developed emphatic sense to see that the man was sad about something. Downright crestfallen.

She wasn't the type of fairy who found humans interesting, but she just couldn't take her eyes off this one. The man wore expensive clothes that suggested he wasn't a commoner. His weapons seemed elegant too, undoubtedly the work of the finest armourers. He had long black hair worn in several braids that cascaded down his shoulders as he propped his jaw into his hands, staring at the ground.

Fiona couldn't help perceiving that the very air around him was vibrating with sadness and perhaps anger too. His furrowed brows made his face look stern, but it was beautiful, despite its seriousness. Not even the most talented sculptor could have carved it to greater perfection, she thought. This man was both sad and angry - just like her.

Not for nothing were elves called emotional creatures: Fiona's heart already ached for the unknown man, forgetting about her own sorrows. If only she could ask him what pained him, if only she could reach out and caress his braided head, if only…

She shuddered. What was she thinking? This was a Mud Man, for Frond's sake! One of those who'd forced the People to leave their homes and move underground! Mud Men didn't deserve pity! Especially not a fairy's pity!

Yet, she couldn't help pitying him. Couldn't help longing to console him... And she couldn't even have explained it to herself. She had never before felt like this for anyone. It was such a warm, enticing, exciting feeling…

She had never before let a Mud Person spot her, unlike some of her kind who loved playing hide-and-seek with the humans and then told stories about the Mud Men's stupid faces after they'd seen them disappear into the thin air… Fiona didn't like playing with anyone's emotions, not even if they were unworthy humans. She had always carefully avoided Mud People, but this once, the rebel in her urged her to show herself to this black-haired nobleman. To let him notice her, let him address her, and perhaps even answer him… What would his voice be like? - she wondered. Surely deep but soft, solemn but heart-warming…

Once in a lifetime she _could_ afford the liberty of talking with a Mud Man, couldn't she? Soon she'd have to get married and leave this world forever, so why not try to _live_ before it happened? 

She didn't know how long she had till her fiancé came to claim her as his wife - perhaps a few years, perhaps months, perhaps only weeks… Then a sudden thought flashed into her mind. What if she became known to the Mud Men? What would the whole fairy society think of her? Surely they would condemn her even more than they already did… and would Alex-What's-His-Name want a wife who'd become famous for associating with humans? No, surely he wouldn't want to marry someone whose 'honour' was lost. If she were spotted in human company by other fairies, she'd be as good as dead for her kind, her so-called fiancé included. It'd be worse than if her husband-to-be caught her in bed with another elf…

No, he definitely wouldn't want her anymore.

She'd be an outcast for the rest of her life, but free. Free to live above ground, free to enjoy the moonlight, the birdsong, baths in the crystal clear brook… No obligations. Nothing but freedom…

* * *

The man was still staring at the ground, deep in thought, when there was a crack. He immediately jumped up from the tree trunk and whipped his sword out of its ruby-covered sheath, ready to strike down at any attacker. However, his blade stopped in midair as he spotted the source of the noise.

His eyes widened in surprise.

His 'attacker' wasn't a man, not an assassin sent after him by the Saxons, nor one of his brother Buda's faithful followers. It was a creature such as he had never seen before. It was tiny - didn't even reach his waistline, and had funny, pointed ears. Its long, red hair, cherubic lips, voluptuous figure and long, white dress suggested that it was a female of some unknown-to-him species.

The tiny girl held up a hand. "Don't be afraid, I mean you no harm."

The man couldn't hide a grin - did this weenie little thing think she could actually harm him? Him, the greatest warrior? Him, who, despite his young age, was feared by the whole of Europe?

"I'm not afraid," he replied and holstered his sword. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to ask what worried you." She shrugged.

"What worried me?" The warrior furrowed his eyebrows.

"You looked sad." The girl said simply, her face radiating compassion. Even though the man had never seen her before, he couldn't help but trust her. There was something in her eyes - something that radiated innocence, intellect and benevolence. Whatever this creature was, she indeed meant him no harm - on the contrary, she wanted to help.

With an amused look, the young man sat back on the trunk, never taking his eyes off her. "Because I'm really sad," he replied.

"Why are you sad?" she asked, taking a step towards him.

"Because my only brother turned on me," he sighed.

"You love him a lot, don't you?"

"Certainly I do. And now he believes I've turned traitor and wanted to get the throne for myself only…"

"The throne?" The girl blinked in surprise.

The man made a grimace. "I don't even know why I'm telling you these things. I don't even know you."

"Well, my name's Fiona. Fiona Springwater. Now you know me." She replied willingly. "And you? What's your name?"

He couldn't help but smile again. No, there was no way this creature could be a spy… she looked too innocent. Such innocence couldn't be acting. Obviously she didn't even know who he was, not even after he mentioned the throne…

Her huge hazel eyes were boring into his, reflecting willingness - almost longing - to help him.

"Attila," he said. "My name is Attila."

* * *

_Naples, 2016 A.D._

"Sir! Sir, we've found something!"

"Indeed?" In a bored sort of way, Cesare Cavalieri raised a greyish eyebrow at his employee. He had had enough of this: day after day hearing one of his men shout 'we've found something', his heart starting to beat quicker in the hope of putting his hands on something worthy, something invaluable… and always coming to realise that all his men had managed to find was a chipped earthenware mug or the skeleton of a mere slave. No jewels, no graves of ancient noblemen, nothing that could make him the second Howard Carter. No, in fact Signor Cavalieri didn't even want to be the second Carter - he wanted to be the _first Cavalieri_. Someone, who managed to find something just as huge and wonderful as Tutankamen's grave… or rather someone, who managed to find something bigger and even more wonderful than that.

But no, he didn't have such luck.

Not that he could have complained about his life: he was a well-to-do man with a nice little villa in Capri and a manor near Kilkenny; educated too, as he'd graduated from Cambridge. However, one thing was missing from his life: fame.

Had he not pursued fame so much, he could have lived a happy life at his villa with a wife and several children, but the idea of sitting at home and raising a bunch of feisty little brats filled him with disgust.

"Sir!" One of his employees held up the object they had found.

Typical. An earthenware pot covered with a lid. True, it was in an unusually good condition despite having spent centuries, perhaps even millennia underground, but it was still nothing but a pot. Cheap, useless, unimportant.

"Catalogue it and send it to the local museum," Cesare grunted, not even giving the pot a second glance.

His employee's face fell, but he nodded. "As you wish, Signor."

* * *

"Honestly, I thought you were more sensible than that, Cesare!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the man replied in a bored voice.

"You're a bloody archaeologist, for heaven's sake! Behave like one!"

"No need to throw a tantrum, Emese." Signor Cavalieri turned his armchair around to face the woman, as he had so far been staring out the window, pretending that he hadn't noticed her enter.

"No need eh? You're mistaken!" She stamped her foot. "If I hadn't had a little sense, then you would have let the parchment slip through our fingers!"

"Parchment? What parchment?"

"The one we found inside that nondescript little pot, you idiot," the woman hissed. She was the only person who dared talk to him like that, and the only person he couldn't feel angry with, no matter how arrogantly she treated him. There was something about her that he truly liked. Her temperament, her wittiness, her greediness… Not that he was in love with her… far from it. But she completed him in a way no one else could.

"And what's on the parchment? Another invaluable recipe by Emperor Diocletian's cook?" Cesare folded his arms, giving her an amused look.

"Not exactly. But judge it yourself," she replied, reaching into her bag and gingerly pulling something out of a cylindrical case. "Here. Be careful with it, it's close to crumbling."

"I _know_ how to handle ancient scripts," the man replied sharply, with a little bit of childish defiance in his voice. "I _am_ an archaeologist, after all."

"Sometimes I doubt it." Emese replied sarcastically.

"Well, what have we here?" Cavalieri carefully unrolled the parchment and began to read.

_Journal of Ferro, servant of Theodosius II_, the parchment said, naturally in Latin.

_In the yeare of oure Lorde Foure hundred and fyftie-three_

Recentlie I have returnede unto mine home toune whilke hight Neapolis. It was of no use that I sholde stay in Pannonia after that the Scourge of God had died. With him died heroisme, fayme and glorie of the Huns. I, as his personal clerke, have been orderede by his moste favoured menne to wryte that he had died of haemorrhage of the nose, so that there be no problems of the bodie politicke. In the official wrytinges, Attila died a natural deathe, but what harme wolde it do if I put the truthe into mine owne journal? None will ever reade thyse, and the truthe wille remaine a secret forever. The truthe is that Attila hath been murdered by his new wife Mikolt. On his weddynge nyghte. It is onlie understandable that the Hun noblemen deemed it moste embarrassing if the whole worlde founde out that the greate hero died at the handes of a mere woman.

I wist not even what became of Mikolt after the funeral… Oh, that funeral! No one on earthe hath hearde of a funeral like this before! I have spente manie yeares amonge the Huns and learned to respecte them in a way, even learned to accepte that they be not alle barbarians, but… that funeral was the moste barbarouse thynge that I have ever hearde of. A Christian woulde never sinke so low as to murder them that undertooke the funeral, but the Huns dydde soe. Fyve thousande slaves were sent to divert the course of the river Tisza, to digge Attila's grave in the bedde thereof, and place his triple coffin thereinto, then to lette the river back into its bedde. This in itself wolde not have been out of the ordinarie, as the keepynge of slaves is onlie naturalle, but the killynge of them alle after that they dydde their worke is barbarouse indeede.

The Huns dydde a thoroughe job. They mayde sure no human wolde stay on live to telle where their greate kynge was buried and raide his grave. No human, indeede… but there was someone whilk stayed on live, despite having witnessede the funeral. No, it be not a human. It be a faerie. Yea, a faerie. I wot, if someone reade my rambling, they wolde say old Ferro hath gone madde, but truste me, I remaine as sane as ever.

I was onlie sente to Attila his campe a few yeares ago, but this faerie girle had been visitynge him for at leaste twelve years, so I hearde from Csaba (Attila his oldest son, whilk, I wot, is ryghte now fyghtynge for the throne with his half-brothere Aladár). Certys, this faerie hath always been the greateste mysterie for me in Attila his campe. She be tiny, red-haired, and can disappeare from syghte as pleaseth her. I hearde that the Hun warriors whilk shotte the thousandes of slaves tried to shoote her alsoe when they spotted her at the funeral, but she disappeared. Then the Huns shotte their arrows randomlie, hoping to hitte her in her invisible forme, but I greatlie doubt that they managed it. I understande them not - why did they feare that a faerie wolde wante Attila his treasures? Faeries are sayde to be riche… my seconde-cousin Silvius whilk liveth in Britannia wrote me that the people of the neighbouring lande of Hibernia believe faeries to carry a greate potte full of golde whithersoever they goe. So, I reck not that the faerie wolde have wantede the golde hydden in Attila his coffin. In facte, meseems she had rather caste her love upon the kynge.

Silvius says faeries be longe of lyfe. They can live for thousandes of yeares. Mayhap Attila his lyttle admirer is a thousande yeares olde alreadie, I wot not. I wish I kannede. I wot not even her name, but none in the campe dydde. She refusede to telle anyone. Mayhap onlie Attila kannede it, mayhap not even he dydde. And if he dydde, then he tooke that knowledge with him into the grave. Just as he tooke the greatnesse and prosperitie of the Huns with him alsoe. Somehow I thinke not that the Huns will survive. Neither Csaba nor Aladár is fitte to rule over them. I claime not to be a seer, but in my mind's eye, I can see the Huns going downe, disappearynge from off the face of the earthe, and alle that wille remaine of them wille be the scriptes (wryttene mostlie by youres trulie). And if that happeneth, then none wille remaine to telle where the greate kynge be buried. None, but that tiny, redheaded, faerie of no name.

Certes, enoughe of the Huns. Today I was invitede by my friende Calvus to his sommer residence, and…

Cesare lowered the parchment and glanced at Emese.

"Well?" She asked in a challenging voice.

"Well… I expect this Ferro was either a complete idiot… or we've found something _interesting_ at last."

* * *

**A/N2:** obviously, this chapter had no Artemis and Holly, but the next one will. Lots of A/H in chapter 2!

In case you didn't fully understand Ferro's journal and would like to read a simpler - modern-language - version, then tell me and I'll send it to you (you need to submit a signed review or add your email addy if you want this.)

And now, review, please! 


	2. Shoe issues

**A/N:** I've heard rumours that ffnet actually deleted fanfics whose authors replied to their reviews. What do you know about this? In the user guidelines they write that one CAN add author's notes before or after the chapter (just not as a separate chapter), and they DON'T say that author notes mustn't include replies to reviews… I'm confused! So, as long as I can't be sure about this, I will answer only those reviewers who asked things that I simply couldn't leave unanswered.

To everyone (since many of you asked about this): the Middle English in Ferro's journal wasn't done by me. I sent the original, modern-language version to my friend British Michael who changed the text into Middle English. I couldn't have done it on my own, only a person whose first language is English could do it.

_Mistri, Tonks Admirer:_ yes, Attila the Hun. Colfer wrote that magic got sucked out of fairies if they made direct contact with sunlight. And I'm sorry to say, but you only managed to be the second reviewer ;)

_Jade Sabre:_ unfortunately I no longer remember where I read that fanfic guide… I read it at least a year ago… (btw, does your name mean that you like Star Wars and Mara Jade?)

_bananaz:_ this chapter doesn't yet reveal the journal's connection to Arty and Holly, but a few chapters later you will find out.

_Teya Yashitoda:_ I wanted to send you the modern language version of the journal but you didn't put your email addy into your ffnet profile, so I didn't know where to send it. If you still want it, give me your email address, please.

_PeanutButteroreoCookieGirl:_ no, this isn't a too happy story (includes lots of angst), but it has several funny parts and a happy ending.

_TroubleKelp:_ nope, English really isn't my native language, I'm Hungarian (there will be a few 'patriotic' moments in this fic ;) I don't exactly know what you mean by 'as long as the A/H is as it was in your first AF fic', but if you meant that you didn't want over-sappy moments, then don't worry, there won't be many of those.

_Estella Heart:_ no, but you're not far from the truth.

_C-chan1:_ no, you're not the only one, I'm HUGE Jar Jar fan too:D Let's start a Jar Jar Fanclub ;) Fiona wasn't using the mesmer on Attila and never will. She likes him too much for that.

_avovisto:_ Huns and Attila are NOT from Star Wars, they are from HISTORY. More on them later.

_Capt.HS:_ Attila couldn't be Holly's mother as Attila is a MALE and a human.

Also thanks to: _Rebel Rose, Zodokai, mocha chocalatta, rubbishbin, AmethystPhoenix1, aperfectattitude, septempopuli, Calipotato, VampyGenieWitch, jasx316, Fudge1, manveri mirkiel, AutumnBreeze25, Eva Evans, ropo-ropo, El Diablo Ella Misma, yorkvillebird, Cyberspace, El Shabang, BeatlesLover, chocolate smudge, amber, ildibp, AnnieThePipster, Queen Dragon, obsessed4life, hogwartscharmed1, purple snowflakes, Chixawitch, Holly Rox, Fleury, Inken, Bethany, refloc, The OddBird, CheshireHare_

* * *

**

Chapter 2

**

Shoe issues

Artemis was staring at a pair of tiny shoes in his hands. He was just staring, and staring, and staring…

"Er…" Holly cleared her throat next to him, "are you all right?"

He nodded mutely, still not diverting his eyes from the shoes. When he had flopped down on the blanket and reached for a sandwich, he had found a small, white package in the picnic-basket. He had asked Holly what it was, but instead of answering, she'd just motioned him to open it, looking excited for some reason. And inside he'd found these shoes.

_Baby shoes._

Well, that would explain why she'd been so excited. But… could it be possible? So soon? - He wondered. Holly and he had been living together for only two months (true, without any kind of protection), and she was… she was already…?

He chanced a glance at her to see that she was eyeing him with a worried expression, chewing her lower lip. She was totally endearing that way. Some locks of her red hair stood out in various directions, whether due to the summer breeze or the fact that she had run her fingers through it at least a dozen times in nervousness, Artemis didn't know. So dishevelled, so worried… so cute. Artemis felt his heart melt, and the only sensible reaction he could think of was reaching out, gathering her into his arms and kissing her gently.

She sighed against his lips - a sigh of both pleasure and relief. When he finally released her, he noticed that she was trembling. The funniest thing was that _he_ was slightly shaking too. It was surely not due to the weather, as it was nice and warm; they had even sought shelter from the hot sunrays under the ancient oak tree.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

"Yeah." She smiled somewhat insecurely.

"Then why are you trembling?"

Holly let out a small laugh. "Nerves, I suppose. I… I had no idea how you'd react, and… and… a…are you happy? At least a bit?"

"I'm happier than I've ever been before," he replied, caressing her cheek. "I always wanted to have a child with you the traditional way, Holly Short."

_Always? I doubt that_, Holly thought with a chuckle, but didn't voice it. "Yeah, this baby was definitely conceived in the _traditional way_…"

"It couldn't have been more traditional." He winked at her, thinking that it was possible they had created the baby right here, under this tree. This place had become their favourite; they had visited it as often as they could. Though neither of them was particularly sentimental, they called the river-bend 'our place'. The place where they had first met… All those years ago neither of them had thought that the little kidnapping would turn out like this: the kidnapper falling for his one-time captive, and vice versa. Recalling the night he'd first spotted the tiny, almost magicless creature here under the oak, Artemis allowed himself a reminiscing smile, then his expression changed to serious. "You know that we will have to tell mother and father about your… _real self_ now?"

"Why?" She frowned.

"Think, Holly. This baby might take completely after me, but it might take completely after you. And if so, then he or she will be born with coffee-coloured skin and pointy ears."

"But… there's the MMM," she reasoned. It'd been just a week ago that Patrick wrote he'd managed to make a version of the MMM for half-human-half-fairies as well so that he'd be able to come and visit his parents once in a while. "That substance would surely work on the baby as well."

"No doubt it would." Artemis nodded. "But only a few months after its birth. Such substances might be risk-free for adults, but we cannot feed them to a newborn. Babies don't have an immune system developed enough, and… we simply cannot risk it. So even if you gave birth in the manor to avoid other humans seeing the baby's possible elfin features, my parents would still see them. And for all I know, mother might die on the spot if I present her a grandchild with ears like Mr Spock's."

"Elfin ears aren't _that_ pointed!" Holly snapped.

"Are too."

"Are not!"

Artemis couldn't help but grin. This was a daily event ever since Holly'd joined him in Fowl Manor: fight, fight, and more fight. They quarrelled early in the morning, argued at lunch and even teased each other in bed. They would never admit it to anyone, but they truly enjoyed it.

"Are too! But I love them!" Artemis concluded the fight and kissed her thoroughly. "However," he continued after he was able to breath again, "we cannot be sure how mother and father would take it. So we've got to tell them the truth, Holly."

She heaved a sigh and nodded. "All right, Artemis. Let's hope that your parents can keep a secret."

"They can, believe me. Mother has never been a gossiping person, and father is… I couldn't imagine him go telling his business associates that his daughter-in-law is a fairy…"

Holly's eyes flashed. "_Daughter-in-law_?"

Artemis gave her a lopsided grin. "Why not? We can't let that baby come into the world illegitimate, can we?"

"No." She returned the grin. "We cannot."

"It's settled, then." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

Holly willed herself not to grimace. 'It's settled, then' - what sort of a proposal was that? Well, certainly it was one that she could expect from Artemis Fowl II. And, she had to remind herself, she didn't love him for his talents in romancing… He was good-looking, clever (even though no longer brilliant), amusing to fight with and amazing as a lover, but there wasn't a girl on the face of earth who would fall for him thanks to his smooth talking.

"But, before we tell your parents, we've got to tell Patrick. And Julius," she spoke up. "We've got to hear their opinion."

"Would their opinion change _anything_?" he asked.

"I don't know." She shook her head. "I just want to tell them. Forgive me, but I trust them more than your parents."

"No offence taken," Artemis replied. He didn't like the idea of spilling the beans to the older Fowl couple either, but it had to be done. He had known it from the moment Holly had come to live with him that if they happened to conceive a child, they would have to disclose their secret to his parents… but up till now he had banished the thought into the back of his mind, persuading himself that he had a lot of time to think it over before it really happened…

He had never suspected that it would happen this quick. One half of him felt proud of his potency, the other half was scared to death. It was one thing having a twelve-year-old son whose childhood he had missed completely; but suddenly becoming father to a small, bawling thing that needs a dozen nappy-changes per day was a wholly different matter. He wasn't sure he was up to it, but Artemis Fowl would never sink so low as to show anyone how scared he was. Especially not to Holly; as Holly was the person who most needed his support now.

He wondered how their son, Root and Foaly would react to their 'big news'. He already saw them in his mind's eye: Patrick making snide remarks, Root choking on his fungus cigar and Foaly grinning and winking at them. However, the biggest problem weren't even these fairies but Artemis the First and Angeline, as their feelings towards the whole 'Holly-matter' had been rather mixed.

A morning of two months earlier came to Artemis's mind…

* * *

Artemis woke up to feel an arm slung over his chest and auburn locks tickling his shoulder. He couldn't help but smirk in a satisfied way, recalling the events of the previous night. What a night it had been! He'd fallen asleep after the first - most tiring - lovemaking, but had woken up about an hour later and they'd continued with renewed power. They had done it… how many times? Artemis thought for a second and established that it had happened three times. Or three and a half - that would have been four, if he hadn't fallen asleep due to extreme exhaustion around five in the morning…

He gently peeled Holly's arm off his chest (she moaned in her sleep but didn't awaken) and fished his mobile phone out of the pocket of his Armani suit that he had dropped to the ground in a very uncharacteristically careless way in the evening. Well, at that time his mind had been on _something else_, and couldn't have cared less for the suit.

Artemis typed in a short message and sent it to Butler, then made his way into the adjacent bathroom.

Barely had he finished taking a shower when there was a knock on the door. Holly stirred but still did not wake up, and Artemis silently opened the door and slid out.

"Good morning, Butler," he greeted his one-time bodyguard.

"Good morning to you too, Artemis." The manservant sized him up from head to toe with a peculiar expression. Perhaps it was because he had never seen his young master in a bathrobe with dripping hair yet… but perhaps it was because of something else.

"Butler, are you all right?"

The manservant stopped scrutinising Artemis and nodded. "I was just wondering whether _you_ were all right."

"I'm absolutely fine." A huge smile spread on the young man's face. "Never better. You, on the other hand… look somewhat tired."

"Not much sleep." Domovoi shrugged. "Someone in the room above mine was making a racket and even some old family photos fell off the walls…"

Artemis turned ruby red and bit into his lower lip. "Sorry, Butler. That was rather tactless of us, but we never thought… it didn't occur to us for a single second that…"

Butler held out a hand to stop the tirade that was about to come. "It's okay, Artemis. I'm not blaming you. Just a small request: have baffle boards installed in your room. As soon as possible."

Artemis turned even redder (if that was possible) and nodded. "I will. I just hope that mother and father haven't heard anything…"

"I doubt they have, they live in the other end of the building, after all, and you two weren't that loud." Butler winked at young Fowl. "I think it's not necessary to ask how your night was… I heard enough."

Artemis tried to stifle a chuckle and make it sound like a cough, but he wasn't sure he succeeded. "Ehm… yeah. The reason why I asked you to come is to tell Juliet to… er…" Artemis ran his hand through his jet-black locks in an embarrassed way, "…to get Holly some clothes. Perhaps lend her some of her own, as Holly can't wear hers any longer. I sort of… ripped them."

After a few seconds he chanced a look at his old friend to see a knowing smile on his face.

"You know, you could have told this directly to Juliet," Butler remarked.

"I know." Artemis stuck his hands into the pockets of his bathrobe. "But I know Juliet too well and I wanted to avoid a sudden outburst of enthusiasm. She simply cannot control her emotions, and if she started yelling happily, my parents would find out about Holly before I wanted to introduce her… officially."

"Officially?" Butler raised an eyebrow at him. "Exactly _how official_ are you two? Proposed to her last night?"

"Er… no." Artemis shuffled his feet. "Should I have?"

"You have to know that." Domovoi shrugged.

"Perhaps… I will. Someday. But… it'd be too quick, don't you think? I mean, I don't want Holly to think that I'm being possessive at such an early stage of our relationship…"

"I don't know that, you've got to know her enough to tell whether she would mind you being possessive."

Artemis had to admit to himself that he _didn't_ know Holly that well. He'd learned a lot about her in the past two weeks, but it was _only two weeks_. Some couples needed a lifetime to get to know each other properly…

Even though they'd crossed the Mexican jungle and fought their way across several obstacles, he and Holly were only at the beginning of their journey together. The road stretched in front of them, disappearing into the distance, into the haze-covered future. He had no idea what was hidden behind the haze; he only knew that he wanted to start down the path with Holly at his side. And wherever they ended up, they'd end up together.

"I so love her, Butler," he muttered under his breath. "I still have a lot to learn about her, but one thing I know: I love her. More than anyone, ever."

"That's the most important thing." His old friend said and gave Artemis's shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "I'm off to tell Juliet to get some clothes for your… _girlfriend_. And I'll tell her to try and _hold back_ her enthusiasm."

"Thanks, Butler." With a smile, Artemis slid back into his room to see Holly stretching and yawning. Spotting him, she tried to flatten her tousled locks.

"Don't. You look lovely that way." Artemis sat down on the bed next to her, kissing the top of her head. "Good morning."

"Mo'ning," she mumbled, sitting up, barely able to keep her eyes open, but grinning like mad. Life was beautiful - waking up to see her gorgeous lover with deliciously wet hair; sensing him snuggle his face into her neck and hearing him ask between two feather-light kisses 'how're you feeling, love?'

"Wonderful," she replied, offering him more of her neck, enjoying his ministrations with closed eyes. "Just a little, ah, sore."

"Sore?" he stopped devoting attention to her neck and looked into her eyes with a slightly worried expression.

"Muscle fatigue, I think…" She grinned at him. "Last night I used muscles I hadn't even known existed."

"Yes, I remember that…" he whispered, his eyes distant, as though he were far away in thought.

Holly smiled to herself: Artemis was reliving certain events of the previous night.

"You know, I wouldn't mind refreshing those memories…" She said with as innocent an expression as she could muster.

Artemis, shaken back to reality, heaved a sigh. "I'd be more than happy to refresh those memories, but… we've got other things to do. Like introducing you to my parents."

"Ow…" Holly winced. She hadn't even thought of that. "So they're back from Canada?"

"Yes, they arrived yesterday afternoon. And I haven't even greeted them yet. I bet they're a bit impatient already, perhaps even miffed that I didn't deign to leave my room and welcome them…" He glanced at the digital clock on his desk. "Breakfast is in fifteen minutes, and we mustn't be late. Mother tends to bear a grudge against both father and me when we arrive late for family meals."

With that he stood up from the bed and began dressing. Holly looked around to see some pieces of her clothes lying on the floor. "And what am I supposed to wear? I doubt I could impress your parents much in a torn pair of trousers and a threadbare maternity dress…"

"Don't worry about that, Juliet will bring you something to wear," Artemis replied, fixing his tie.

There was a knock on the door and even before they could have answered it, Juliet stormed in, wearing the biggest grin ever, carrying a pile of clothes that she dropped on the bed, and practically flung herself on Holly's neck.

"I'm so happy to have you here! I barely could believe it when Dom told me, but now I see it's true, you're really here! Oh, Holly, I always said you and Artemis were made for each other, I just knew it, I knew it!"

"Juliet, would you please stop stifling my girlfriend?" Artemis tapped his bodyguard on the shoulder. "And for all you know, we could have been doing something… private in here, so in the future, please refrain from bursting in on us."

Juliet pulled back from her friend, madly grinning. Normally she would have given Artemis a snappy comeback, but now she was too happy for that. "Right, Arty. From now on I will pretend that I don't know the code to your door." She added with a wink.

"Really, why does she know the code?" asked Holly, reaching out for the peach-coloured shirt that Juliet had brought for her.

"Simple," Artemis replied, scrutinising his appearance in the full-length mirror that was built into the inner side of his wardrobe's door. "Juliet's my bodyguard. Should anything happen to me… say someone somehow manages to poison me and the poison only starts to affect me at night and I'm feeling so bad that I can't even stand up to open the door, someone needs to be able to open it without using a crate full of TNT."

"Ah, good thinking." Holly nodded, pulling on a denim skirt that was slightly too big for her.

Artemis made a wry expression at her comment, and Holly didn't even need to ask why: the loss of his genius was still his weak point, and she knew it would remain like that for quite a while… She knew it was _her_ task to make him forget about the loss, and she was determined to do just that.

"By the way, what are we going to tell your parents about me?"

"Really, that's a good question," Juliet pointed out. "What shall we tell them?"

"We aren't going to lie to them," the young man said calmly.

"No?" both females gasped.

"No. We are just going to keep certain things a secret."

"Like what?" Juliet wondered.

"Obviously we cannot tell them Holly's a fairy. We can't tell them she's 94 years old and that we have a son. But we can tell them the following…"

Holly and Juliet listened to the 'plan', and when Artemis was finished, Juliet couldn't help commenting that she wasn't at all sure Artemis's IQ had indeed dropped…

* * *

Artemis could feel Holly's trepidation as they walked down the stairs. She tried to look carefree and confident, but he knew she was just acting the brave little girl, but inside she was really worried. And, if he admitted it to himself, _he_ was slightly worried too. He knew that his parents had wanted him to get married for years, but they had imagined their little Arty's life-mate as the refined daughter of some bank manager or the second-cousin of Prince William. And what were they getting now? A temperamental, tomboyish girl with no enormous bank account and no family tree as big and old as the Fowl… then again, very likely Holly's family tree was much, much older than the Fowls' - but that was something that Artemis wasn't supposed to mention to his parents.

He still remembered how desperate his mother had been when he'd advertised for a wife. She had been yearning for a grandchild but she'd advised him not to marry someone through an advertisement, because women who responded to the ad only wanted his money. He seriously hoped that his parents wouldn't think Holly only stayed with him because he was rich…

All in all, they needed to make a good first impression.

That in itself was a hard enough task, given that the clothes Juliet had graciously lent to Holly were more than revealing - Juliet's style, of course. Artemis knew Holly would never pick such clothes for herself in a shop.

"You're late," came Angeline's cold voice from the dining room.

"I know, Mother, and I'm sorry," Artemis replied, entering the room, arm in arm with Holly.

There was a small gasp from the other end of the table, followed by the clatter of metal on marble - Angeline had obviously dropped a tray.

"Arty?" she muttered, her eyes wide.

"Artemis?" Fowl Senior raised an eyebrow at the newcomers.

Fowl Junior took a deep breath. "Mother, Father, let me introduce you Holly Short, my girlfriend."

"Good morning, Mrs Fowl, Mr Fowl," Holly said in a shaky voice, and Artemis knew she would rather be fighting with a troll right now instead of staring at the Fowl couple and waiting for their 'verdict'.

A few moments of silence followed, and Artemis could feel Holly's fingers digging into the flesh of his arm in her extreme nervousness.

Then, suddenly a small and slightly forced smile appeared on Angeline's face. "Welcome, Holly, dear." She took a few steps towards them, and Artemis could see her hesitation. She was clearly struggling with herself, unable to decide whether to hold out her hand to Holly, or rather gather her into a motherly hug… Then finally it was Artemis Senior who saved the day: he walked up to them and - to Holly's utter surprise - gave her a kiss on both cheeks.

"Welcome at Fowl Manor, Holly. Angeline and I are happy to get to know our son's girlfriend. It was high time, really…" He cast a sideways glance at Artemis and the young man could see an impish glint in his father's eyes.

"Thank you, sir," Holly replied, her voice no longer shaky. A warm little smile was playing on her lips, and Artemis thought she looked like a flower that had all of a sudden burst into bloom: the timid little bud had opened and started radiating its full beauty at the Fowl parents. Artemis the First returned her smile, and Artemis the Second had no doubt that his father had accepted Holly. He wasn't that sure about his mother, though.

Knowing that it would be awkward if she didn't greet Holly as warmly as her husband had, Angeline also leaned forward and hugged the girl.

"Nice to have you here, dear. Timmy's right, Arty should have long got himself a girlfriend… He's lucky to have one as lovely as you, dear. Now, perhaps let us have breakfast, and you can tell us about yourself…"

After they'd taken place at the table, Angeline began the interrogations in her elegant and subtle way.

"I hope you don't mind me mentioning, but your accent is unrecognisable to me. It isn't Irish, isn't even Scottish, Welsh, American or Australian… so, where exactly do you come from?"

"I've been travelling, madam. A lot. I could say I have no roots. I've lived all over the world, due to my occupation…"

"And that is…?" asked Mrs Fowl, reaching for the teapot.

"Interpreter," Holly replied.

"Then you must be good at foreign languages," Fowl Senior concluded. "How many languages do you speak?"

"Well…" Holly started counting on her fingers. "German, French, Italian, Spanish, Hungarian, Swahili, Chinese, Japanese… and Portuguese." _And every language ever spoken on the face of Earth_, she added in thought.

Artemis the First seemed impressed. "That is a lot of languages for someone so young."

_Young, eh?_ Holly fought back a giggle. _I'm about forty years older than you are, sonny…_ But aloud she only said: "I've always had a fascination for languages, and if I'm interested in something, then I enthusiastically study it."

"And you're interested in our Artemis…" The Fowl patriarch said good-naturedly.

"I am." Holly beamed. "And I know that I still have a lot to learn about him… but I enjoy every second of it."

"Really, how long have you known are son?"

Holly and Artemis's glance met and they couldn't help but smile. "Fourteen years."

"Fourteen?" Angeline gasped. "But… but… you were just children then!"

_You mean **Artemis** was a child_, Holly thought as her lover spoke up:

"Yes, I was a child, that's why I didn't realise what a wonderful person Holly was. I just… regarded her as an annoying girl."

"And the feeling was mutual," the fairy replied, her eyes glinting merrily.

"And when exactly did you get to know each other?" Angeline wondered. "You never mentioned any girls you knew."

"It happened when you were slightly… _depressed,_ Mother, due to father's disappearance," Artemis replied. He knew that 'depressed' was a euphemism, as 'mad' would have been the proper phrase.

"Oh." Mrs Fowl nodded. "So you've known each other for fourteen years…"

"…but we haven't met for quite a while," Artemis carried on. "We only met again while you two were away in Canada, and we realised that we were made for each other. Right, love?"

Holly sent him a heart-melting smile as a response.

"So," Artemis the First poked the bacon with his fork, "You've only been together for two weeks, and you're already sleeping together?"

Artemis II and Holly blushed to the roots of their hair. "Yes." The young man nodded. His father must have assumed that he had slept with Holly because they had appeared together for breakfast. "But we're responsible adults, and we know what we're doing…"

"I never questioned that." His father held up a placating hand. "It just seems a bit… quick for me. Then again, when I was young, things were different. People were more… old-fashioned."

"Old-fashioned?" Son arched an eyebrow at his father. "You were young in the seventies, Father. In the middle of the sexual revolution."

Fowl Senior shrugged. "True, still… _I_ was old-fashioned. But please, don't take this as though I were berating you or something… it's just difficult for the old people to understand the young. But," a mischievous smile spread on his face, "at least now we know why you were reluctant to come down to greet us yesterday. You were occupied with your lovely girlfriend, not a new invention…"

Artemis grinned back. "Er… sorry." He knew he should have greeted his parents the previous day, but he had been wallowing too much in self-pity then, and when Holly appeared, the last thing he thought of was the Fowl couple. While depressed, he had ordered Juliet to keep everyone from his room, and he assumed that the bodyguard must have lied to his parents about why he was reluctant to leave his room. Obviously she had fed Angeline and Artemis the First a story about him working on a new invention…

Truth was that he _had been_ working on a new invention before he'd left for Haven with Holly. Now he wasn't likely to ever finish it, even though it could have been the greatest thing he ever invented… a time machine.

Willing himself not to think of his unfinished masterpiece, he directed his attention back to the conversation.

"Say, Holly dear, how do you imagine life with our Arty?" Angeline asked in a would-be-motherly way, but Artemis could hear the cutting edge of her voice. "You said you didn't have roots… how do you plan settling down, then? Or would you be satisfied with a distant relationship, only occasionally meeting our son?"

Artemis could hear even the unspoken words of his mother: '_…only occasionally meeting our son to have a good shag? Is that all you want him for?'_

"Well, Mrs Fowl, I could say that things have changed since I met Artemis again," Holly replied with a smile that - Artemis perceived - was pretty much forced. Holly's nervousness was almost tangible and he knew she was feeling very uncomfortable, thanks to his mother. "I love your son, Mrs Fowl. And he loves me, and…"

"…And I told her that I would be the happiest man on earth if she decided to move here to live with me," Artemis cut in to help her out. "She consented." He put an arm around Holly and kissed her on the cheek. "And with this, she indeed made me the happiest man on earth."

Seeing his mother's shocked expression, he cast a meaningful glance at her plate. "I believe your omelette will get cold if you don't eat it any time soon."

Angeline made a grimace very uncharacteristic of an elegant lady like her, and devoted all her attention to her omelette, to both Holly and Artemis's great relief. The rest of the breakfast passed without anyone saying anything more important than 'pass the teapot, please', and at the end Artemis ushered Holly out of the dining room without giving his parents an opportunity to question her further.

"Here." In the hall he pushed a flat little thing into her hand.

"What's this?"

"My credit card. Juliet knows the code and can use it, so she'll help you."

Holly gave him a confused expression. "But… what for?"

"Do you want to spend the next few decades in Juliet's clothes?"

"Oh." She smirked. "No. Of course not."

"Then I'll ask her to take you into Dublin and show you the best shops. Get out as much money as you want, buy anything you like."

"Artemis, it's not…" she began protesting, but he put his index finger on her lips.

"Shhh. I know what you want to say, and don't say it. You are my girlfriend, and you need to dress appropriately. You know, like a princess." He added with a wink.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help grinning. "Show-off."

* * *

When Holly had left with Juliet (Butler drove them into the city), Artemis was left alone with his thoughts. Having nothing else to do, he wandered around the manor's corridors, memories of the past breakfast swirling in his head. Certainly, he hadn't expected his mother to approve of him living together with a woman without wearing a wedding ring, but he hadn't expected her to act this cold and aloof towards Holly either.

As he passed by a centuries old painting of Lord Hugo de Fole, he heard a voice coming through the half-open door of the nearby Emerald Room (one of the five elegant drawing rooms, Angeline's favourite).

"…I just don't know what to think of this relationship, Timmy! They're sleeping together! After only two weeks! And I assume using protection hasn't even occurred to them!"

"For some reason I can't see our Artemis _not_ thinking of protection," Fowl Senior's voice replied. "He's a genius, after all."

_A genius - I wish_, the young man sighed outside the door.

"Anyway," his father continued, "I don't understand _why_ you would mind if they forgot to use protection, Angeline. You've been twisting Arty's arm to get married and produce a grandchild for you for ages! Perhaps you're going to have one soon."

"But… but they aren't even married, Timmy!" The woman sounded almost hysterical.

"Trust Artemis to propose to her if she gets pregnant," came the calm answer.

"And what if that little trollop _deliberately_ gets pregnant, just to make our Arty marry her? What if she only wants him for his money? I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. Just look at her! Those clothes…! Only scarlet women dress like that! I wonder how many men she has bedded before our innocent little Arty!"

"Enough is enough!" Artemis burst into the room, his face red with anger. "Just for your information, Mother, I was her first! If you want proof, go and check the bed-sheet, I doubt Juliet has changed it yet! As for her clothes: hers got ruined in a rather unfortunate way, so she borrowed some from Juliet. Those are Juliet's slutty clothes; Holly would never, ever wear something like that if she could help it! She's the purest, noblest person I've ever known, and I _will not tolerate_ it if you talk about her like that! Either learn to treat her like a human being, or prepare to see me leave this house - forever! And that is not a mere threat, Mother!"

With that he turned on his heels and marched out. He didn't even remember when he had last lost his head like that. Very likely never. Perhaps losing a few dozen IQ points did that to him: while his immense intelligence had held him back from doing insensible things, now this barrier no longer existed, and such things as shouting - that had earlier been beneath his dignity - didn't seem that insensible anymore.

"A…Arty? Arty!" His mother ran after him and caught up with him right before the portrait of Lord Hugo de Fole. "Artemis, I'm… I'm… sorry." She panted. "I never knew… never thought…" He could see despair in her eyes. Fear.

"What didn't you think?" he asked coldly.

Angeline reached out and grabbed his arm. "I… never thought she meant so much for you. I'm sorry if I hurt you, Son."

"You hurt _Holly_, Mother. And if you hurt her, you hurt me."

She nodded, her lips trembling. "When she returns, I'll try to be nice to her, I promise. Just don't shout at me like that, Arty."

* * *

Angeline kept her promise. She was as nice to Holly as possible and avoided asking any questions that could have made her or Artemis uncomfortable. However, Holly still felt some kind of awkwardness about the way Angeline treated her, and she even voiced her opinion to her boyfriend. Artemis knew well that his mother was acting, trying to make Holly believe she had accepted her, but deep in her heart she still had doubts about this relationship. He knew that Angeline was only being nice to Holly because she was afraid that otherwise she could lose him…

Life at Fowl Manor seemed to return to normal, with the exception that the table was set for each meal for four instead of three, and that Artemis had baffle boards installed into his room.

After one day Holly told Artemis that she would like to do something useful, he got her a job as translator for one of his father's childhood friends - an Italian man named Cesare Cavalieri. Holly truly enjoyed her job, even though she only got to translate business letters that Cavalieri sent to his archaeologist colleagues all over the world. Holly even mentioned it to Artemis that now Angeline could no longer look at her as though she were some sponger.

Ever since Holly had started to work (she worked at home on one of Artemis's computers), it was Artemis who occasionally felt awkward about not doing much useful. Certainly he took part in some business meetings and helped his father manage the Fowl finances, but he found that moneymaking didn't fascinate him anymore. Besides the occasional business meetings Artemis didn't do anything useful - for example he didn't experiment.

He hadn't told his parents about the loss of his genius, because he knew he couldn't have mentioned it without telling them the whole 'fairytale', but at his current state he didn't feel brave enough to try and work on any kind of invention. Truth was that he _might_ have been able to invent things, but for some reason he didn't dare try. Something held him back… he couldn't have named it even if he'd wanted to.

His parents didn't seem to notice that their son was doing 'nothing', but it had been obvious to Holly. Artemis was a wonderfully tender lover at night, and at daytime he teased her as often as he could; but she knew that all the teasing and most of the passionate lovemaking sessions were just hiding his true emotions. Not his emotions about _her_, as he showed those pretty clearly; but his feelings about _himself._

She knew he was insecure, probably even afraid; she knew he couldn't really find his place, and she knew he was trying to hide it from the world. One evening she tried to start a conversation with him about his lost genius, but he'd cut her off with nibbling at her earlobe and beginning to undo the buttons on her shirt. This had managed to take Holly's mind off of the conversation she was planning to have with him, and she hadn't yet found another opportunity to make up for the chance she'd missed.

Thus passed two months of bliss overshadowed by insecurity; and Artemis was now staring at the pair of tiny shoes in his hands. "All right, Holly," he consented. "Let's contact our son."

* * *

**A/N2:** I know that some of you who have read my Harry Potter fics as well might be rolling your eyes now, thinking 'oh my gosh, Agi's making the main character pregnant again'... I can only say that Holly's pregnancy was necessary, otherwise she and Arty wouldn't need to tell the Fowl parents about fairies, and... well, you'll see ;)

And now, review, please! 


	3. Spilling the Beans Part I

**A/N:** have you heard of the 'Orion Awards'? It's a site where you can nominate your fav AF fics in various categories. In case you're interested, I could post its link into my bio for a while. The site's owner wishes some bigger publicity, so I thought I'd mention it here.

_Bananaz the Sugar Monkey:_ the teaser will be in this chapter. Yes, Arty was slightly ooc shouting at his mother, but it was right after he lost his genius and it had affected him in many ways: it not only made him less clever but it is hurting him a lot, and making him snappish. He's feeling as someone who had been healthy and suddenly got crippled. A great loss makes some people downright morose, so no wonder Arty got so easily riled. No idea where Holly shops, ask Juliet ;) I seriously don't know how you could incorporate MORE A/H into your fic, especially because your fic is about nothing else but A/H. I'd say there's just enough A/H in it ;) All I can give you as an advice is to make them quarrel a little less and have a bit more romance. I know that I made them quarrel in the Aztec incident a lot too, but you seem to be overdoing it a bit.

_The Flying Moose:_ no, this fic has absolutely nothing to do with The Opal Deception. This is AU.

_AnnieThePipster:_ a baffle board is something like an additional wall that makes sure that no noises come out of your room.

_Obsessed4life:_ Patrick is a genius enough, he can solve things Artemis cannot.

_Eva Evans:_ yes, once a week.

_Anonymous:_ yes, Attila is the Hun. This is a bit longer than the Aztec Incident, but not much. Why I don't capitalise my fics and arts? Dunno, should I? In Hungarian we don't, so that must have rubbed off on me. Yes, I think that comma was superfluous.

_Trouble Kelp:_ I'm blushing. And you're exaggerating :) But it feels nice… Thanks!

_Inken:_ Angeline calls her husband 'Timmy' in the books as well, it's not something I made up. Yes, surely Holly would get bored with translating after a while, but she can't become a human police officer, can she?

_chocolate smudge:_ I know of the two other books by Stroud, I just haven't read them yet. The Golem's eye should be out soon in Hungarian, I'll buy it then and I'll wait for the third one to read it Hungarian too because I love our translator's style (the same guy translates it as the Harry Potter books and he's absolutely great). I don't know when I'll be able to start reading The Golem's eye, though, because I've just started Eragon and it's a HUGE book… Btw, doesn't Nathaniel's personality remind you of Artemis? ;)

_Mistri, Tonks' Admirer:_ yes, Holly now can make contact with sunlight. Yes, Artemis did expect that Holly might get pregnant, but he thought it'd take a little longer. Angline isn't mean but she's protective of her son and thinks that Holly isn't good for him.

_septempopuli:_ yes, Patrick will complete it.

_Fudge1:_ Holly will have some pregnancy problems in the next chapter, but nothing serious. Where did you read about Colfer having time-machine ideas? Was it in some interview with him?

_Chixawitch:_ if you want to write a FULL story and make sure that you don't get bored while you're writing it, then - before you even start to write - have a clear idea in your mind what you want to reach by the end of the fic. This will urge you on to write because you want to get there, you want to make Artemis marry Holly (or Foaly confess his love to Opal or anything). Set goals and repeat to yourself that you want to reach them. It helps.

_Marissa the Scamp:_ currently it's 2016 in the fic, but I'll be jumping back and forth in time (no worries, I will always add the date so that you won't get confused).

_C-chan1:_ yup, I'm not putting details in the fic without a reason :)

_lalalalala:_ if you read the Aztec Incident, then you must know that Artemis indeed lost his genius.

Also thanks to: _purple snowflakes, jasx316, Rebel Rose, Teya Yashitoda, hogwartscharmed1, Holly Rox, harriettapotter, amber, Queen Dragon, PeanutButterOreoCookieGirl, Roz, Lines, CheshireHare, BeatlesLover, avovisto, Zodokai, almostinsane, AmethystPhoenix1, Fleury, Bethany, Phoenix Master, VampyGenieWitch, AutumnBreeze25, refloc_

* * *

**

Chapter 3

**

Spilling the beans - part I

"All right, Holly. Let's contact our son." With that, Artemis stood up from the picnic blanket and walked up to the Jeep he had parked nearby. Whenever he and Holly took a trip to 'their place', Artemis drove the Jeep. Truth was that he'd never liked driving. He had only learned it to stop his father badgering him with '_Artemis, a real man needs to know how to drive a car! You've got to prove you are one too!'_

Now, however, that Holly was around and they occasionally felt like getting away from Fowl Manor, he was more than happy to have received the Jeep for his eighteenth birthday and having learned to drive. It would have been highly embarrassing if he had had to ask Butler to drive them to their picnic place in the Bentley and then leave them there every time they longed for a bit of 'outdoors romancing'…

He climbed into the car, searched for a few moments, then returned to Holly with his laptop. Even though he no longer invented new gadgets, he was still highly dependent on this little beauty and still carried it everywhere he went. Even on a short and expected-to-be-romantic trip like this one.

He flopped down on the blanket and switched on the notebook. Once the program had loaded, Artemis opened the secret channel they had been using for two months to stay in contact with Patrick. Whenever they talked with their son through this channel, Artemis couldn't help but feel a slight discomfort (that he tried _not to_ call pangs of remorse) - he had after all promised the Haven Council that he'd never ever contact the fairies again. He had broken this promise at least a dozen times already. And the funniest thing was that Commander Root, the epitome of law-abidingness, didn't mind it at all.

* * *

"How are you proceeding with your tele… trans… new project?" asked Root benignly.

"It's called _transporter_, and will work similarly to the ones in Star Trek, with the exception that this is going to be _real_, and portable. As for your question: thank you, I'm proceeding quite well, Uncle Julius," Patrick replied, bent over a tiny gadget with a micro-screwdriver. "Even Foaly says it's going to be one of the greatest things ever invented when it's ready."

"Does he, really?" Root sent the centaur a dubious glance. "I thought he couldn't bear the thought of the pupil surpassing the master…"

"Ha-ha," Foaly replied with a scowl. "Just for your information, Julius, I don't mind if Patrick gets his share of fame-"

"…As long as he doesn't outshine you," the commander pointed out.

"Now honestly, I don't understand why you - or anyone - would think that I'm so jealous and want all the glory for myself…" The centaur said theatrically, placing his right hand on his heart. "And why are you looking at me like that?"

"I was just wondering if I indeed saw a halo around your head…" Root replied and when his gaze met Patrick's, they both hid a grin.

"Has anyone told you yet that your sense of humour is… how to put it… _nonexistent_?" retorted Foaly, reaching for a carrot.

"And do you think I care what people say?" Julius said aloofly. "Usually they're completely wrong. For example that Butler girl… she kept telling me I had absolutely no sense for romantic matters. And then whose idea was it to advise Holly to join her Mud Man and be happy with him? _Mine_."

"Yeah, 'cause you wanted Holly's position so badly, Julius," the centaur replied with carrot-filled mouth.

"You know it's not true!" the commander snapped. "And don't call me Julius!"

"Touchy, aren't we?" Foaly raised an eyebrow at his boss.

"No." Root grunted. "I just… miss her."

A dreamy expression spread on the face of the L.E.P.'s technical genius. "I know the feeling, Julius… we all miss her. I often wonder: 'what could she be doing right now? What could _they_ be doing?'"

"Probably shagging each other senseless," young Short said, not even looking up from his project.

"Patrick…!" Root gasped, but even he realised that his voice didn't manage to sound as scandalised as he'd wanted it to.

Foaly chuckled, and when Root was just about to tell off both him and Patrick for their 'low morals', there was a beeping sound.

All three of them glanced at the consoles and saw a green light flashing in a peculiar way.

The secret signal.

The one that always indicated that Holly and/or Artemis wanted to talk to them. It had been Patrick's idea to receive all calls from his parents like this, because if there happened to be others around when the signal started to beep, he or Foaly could shut down the channel and make sure that no one else found out they were in contact with Artemis Fowl. After all, it would have been highly embarrassing if Wing Commander Vinyáya or Trouble Kelp were around when Artemis's face appeared on the monitor… The best thing about this system was that it worked both ways. Artemis's laptop also signalled him if there was a call coming from Haven, and if others than Holly, Butler or Juliet were nearby, he could decide not to receive the call.

Foaly opened the channel, and young Fowl's face filled the screen.

"Talk of the devil," the commander muttered.

"The devil?" Artemis raised an eyebrow at him. "I might not have been an angel, but that's a bit harsh…"

"Indeed?" Root's mouth tucked into a small smile as he reached into his breast pocket and fished out a fungus cigar. "So, what's up, Fowl? And where's Holly?"

"Here I am." Holly's face appeared next to Artemis's. "Hi, Foaly… good that you could authorise the call, because we really need to talk to you."

"To which one of us?" the centaur asked, munching on a second carrot.

"It depends on who else is there besides you and Root," replied Artemis.

"Me, for example," Patrick stuck his head in front of Foaly's, blocking the centaur out of the screen's view. "Hi, Mum, Dad."

"Hello, dear." Holly sent her son a loving glance.

"Hello, Son," Artemis added. "In this case, we want to talk to all three of you. But especially you, Patrick."

"Wow, you sound pretty official, Dad," the boy remarked with a smirk. "Do tell, what do you need your genius son for?"

Artemis fought with his facial muscles not to tuck into a pained grimace at the mention of the word 'genius'. In fact he was grateful to Holly for answering instead of him.

"We have big news for you, dear," she said. "Two big news items, actually."

Patrick flashed them with a quizzical look, then a grin spread on his face. "Let me guess: you're pregnant and getting married."

"Er…" Artemis and Holly exchanged a glance.

"No…" Patrick breathed. "Don't tell me it's true. I meant it as a _joke_…"

"Well, it isn't." Artemis shrugged with the most embarrassed expression imaginable.

Root got a bout of coughs due to the fact that he'd almost swallowed his fungus cigar, Foaly patted him on the back to stop the coughing and said: "Our assumptions weren't that far-fetched, after all, do you think, Julius?"

"What sort of assumptions?" Holly asked curiously.

"That you two were-" Foaly began, only to be silenced by Root's scowl. "Nothing. So, getting married, huh?"

"Yes." The newly engaged couple nodded in unison.

"Do you need more papers for the wedding? I could forge you any if you wish…"

"No, I don't think so." Holly shook her head. "I believe those that you've already forged for me will suffice. Right, Artemis?"

"Right. There will be no problem with getting the marriage licence. However, we might have a bit of problem with the church, as you're not Catholic, but… that's something I will settle. Father Brian is a distant relative and quite open-minded for a priest."

"Do you insist on a church wedding?" Holly furrowed her brow.

"I do not, but my parents will. Both are Catholics, and Mother can be a bit of a… bigot sometimes, if you get my drift."

"Just a _bit_ of a bigot?" Holly smirked at him. Artemis grinned back, knowing exactly what she meant.

"How come you're telling us you're getting married and you haven't even discussed the details yet?" Patrick enquired.

"Well, we've just decided about getting married." His mother explained. "Five minutes ago."

"Indeed?"

"Yeah. Five minutes ago I told Artemis about the baby and he immediately proposed. Well, if that could be called a proposal," Holly said with a reproachful edge in her voice.

"What do you mean?" Artemis wondered.

"Nooooothing." She rolled her eyes.

Leaning close to the monitor, Artemis gave their son an innocent expression. "I have no idea what's wrong with her…"

"Must be the pregnancy." Patrick replied knowingly. "Hormones making her over-sensitive…"

"Talk about me like I wasn't here." Holly said sharply. "And no, it's not my hormones. My hormones haven't done anything weird yet, I'm feeling totally all right, thank you very much."

"No mood swings, then? No morning sickness?"

"None. Just your father being an insensitive git."

"What, me?" Artemis frowned.

Holly cast a sideways glance at him, and seeing his expression that suggested he really had no idea why she was miffed, she could no longer feel angry with him. After all, he had only started to _feel_ properly two months ago. Before that, he had suppressed all his emotions, and feeling was something new for him. Something he had a lot to learn about. He hadn't yet learnt how to react upon his feelings, and that's why most of the time he seemed as though he had the emotional range of a teaspoon. "Yes, you," she replied, her voice no longer sharp. "But… I still love you."

"I'm glad you do… even though I have no idea why I made you angry," he whispered, reaching out to caress her cheek. She closed her eyes, enjoying the warm touch of his hand.

"Please spare us," Foaly groaned.

Artemis and Holly decided to spare them and turned their attention back to the monitor.

"Er, Holly… If you haven't had any sort of sickness yet, then how can you be sure you're pregnant?" wondered Root.

"Well, I got suspicious because I realised I'm late, then the test proved it-"

"Late? For what?" The commander furrowed his white eyebrows.

Patrick and Foaly exchanged amused glances and could barely stifle a chuckle. Old Root had never been particularly good at biology…

"How late?" asked Artemis, wondering why he hadn't noticed that there had been no 'technical interruption' in their sexual life. Perhaps it _had_ occurred to him if he were still a genius… he didn't know.

"Six weeks," she responded.

"That means it must have happened around eight weeks ago," Patrick concluded. "And you left Haven exactly eight weeks ago."

Holly bit into her lower lip and her face revealed that she couldn't decide whether to look embarrassed or laugh out loud. "Yeah… it's possible that it happened right on our first night together… after all, your father is Artemis, God of Potency. Didn't you know?"

Artemis willed himself not to blush. "Why, it's still better than Artemis, Impotent God of Knowledge…"

"What are you two talking about?" asked Patrick.

His mother gave him a benign smile. "Just an insider joke, dear. I love teasing your father about it…"

"You love teasing me about _everything_," Artemis pointed out.

"The pot calling the kettle black…" she riposted.

"Aren't they cute?" Foaly chuckled. "I bet you two are never bored with each other. But do tell, if you haven't planned this child - and apparently you haven't - then what are you going to do if it's born and looks like Holly?"

The mother-to-be took a deep breath. "Well, that's why we first wanted to talk to you. We've reached a rather… unpleasant decision."

"Are you going to terminate it?" Patrick asked sullenly.

"Oh no, never." Holly shook her head. "It's something completely different…"

"I have a bad feeling about this," muttered the commander.

Under normal circumstances Foaly would have asked 'have you become a Star Wars fan too?', but he found that the situation did not allow for childishness. "What sort of decision?"

Now it was Artemis's turn to heave a sigh. "We've got to tell my parents who Holly really is."

"No!" Root, Patrick and Foaly gasped.

Artemis held up his hand. "Please, let me explain. First of all: you've got to know that we aren't any happier about it than you are. But we _have to_ tell them. Exactly because the baby might take after Holly and then my parents will get a heart attack, not to mention that if they insist that Holly gives birth in a hospital, then the doctors and nurses will get a heart attack too. My parents need to know what to expect, and need to get used to the thought that Holly will deliver the baby at Fowl Manor. There's no other way."

"But… there's the MMM," Patrick protested.

"Would you dare use it on a newborn?" His father arched an eyebrow at the boy.

Patrick's pointed ears drooped. "No. You're right… I wouldn't. But… perhaps Mum could _mesmerise_ your parents into believing that the kid looks completely human, even though it doesn't… Or not. She would have to renew the _mesmer_ almost daily, and if she forgets it just one time, then the cat is out of the bag. D'Arvit, you two really got yourselves in trouble!"

"Big news," Root grunted through his cigar. "That's all they are capable of…" For some reason there was a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Fowl was indeed a horrible troublemaker, but so was Holly, and the old commander had to admit it to himself that this was one of Holly's qualities that first made him grow fond of her.

"Don't worry, my parents can keep a secret," Artemis added. "And speaking of the MMM, you're invited to the wedding."

"You mean Uncle Julius and me?" Patrick smirked. "Great. Finally I'll get a chance to test the half-fairy version."

"And of course _I_ am not invited," Foaly huffed.

"You know we'd love to invite you," said Holly in an apologetic voice, "but…" She pointed at the centaur's legs. "I bet not even the MMM can do anything about those."

"It can't," Patrick confirmed. "It can only transform two-legged fairies into humans, but it cannot make two extra legs disappear…"

Giving the others a hurt glance, Foaly bit into a third carrot. "By the way, when is the wedding going to take place?"

"As soon as possible. I'd say we could have the official engagement in about a week, and the wedding in a month," Artemis replied.

"So soon?" Holly asked. "Will we be able to arrange everything in a month?"

"We'll have to if you want to fit into a decent wedding dress and not walk down the aisle with a bulging belly," her fiancé said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, so you're afraid the house of Fowl would become a laughing stock if I were already showing at the wedding." Holly concluded resentfully.

"Exactly." Artemis nodded.

"I can't decide whether to ignore the fact that you're again behaving like an insensitive git or simply punch you in the face!" she snapped.

"I'd prefer the former, dear, your fists are lethal."

"No, I'm sure they never get bored with each other." Patrick sent Foaly a grin.

* * *

"Wedding? And a baby?" Butler's eyes widened. Artemis and Holly nodded, beaming up at him. "Well, what can I say?" The manservant ran his enormous hand across his shaved dome. "Er… congratulations. Yes… I think that's all I can say."

"Thank you, old friend," Artemis replied. "Please go and get Juliet, we've got to tell her too."

"Oh, she knows already." Holly waved.

"She knows?" The young man blinked, surprised.

"Of course she does. Who do you think got a pee stick for me behind your back?" She replied with a naughty grin.

"So you told her earlier than me, the father!" Artemis tried to look hurt.

"I didn't specifically tell her I was _pregnant_, I told her that I suspected I might be pregnant, as I've been living together with sex god Artemis for two months without having my period."

Artemis blushed furiously and tried to avoid Butler's glance. The man was more of a father to him than his real father had ever been, and being called 'sex god' in front of him made Artemis want to vanish. It was one thing that Butler knew perfectly well what he and Holly were doing every night (and occasionally at daytime as well), but speaking it aloud was a completely different matter.

"But Artemis…"

"Yes, Butler?"

"I fear that with the birth of this child an old tradition will be broken."

"Yeah, this will be the first half-fairy by the name Fowl," Artemis replied knowingly.

"That's not what I meant." The manservant shook his head. "Juliet's the youngest Butler, and she's already _your_ bodyguard. There's no Butler to be the personal guard of your child-to-be-born."

"True. I haven't thought of that." Artemis nodded. "Well, every tradition needs to be broken some day, don't you think? And after all, I'm living a peaceful life now. No fishy business transactions, no dangerous business associates, and not even the fairies are after my blood. No one wants to harm me or anyone in my family."

"May you be right, Artemis," Domovoi sighed.

"When have I been wrong?" Artemis gave Butler his trademark smug vampire smile - a smile that no one had seen on his face since he'd returned from Mexico. "The kid's completely safe. I'm more worried about telling Mother and Father the news…"

"You know, Artemis, I wouldn't be in your place now," the manservant replied jovially.

"Thanks for the encouragement," the young man said sarcastically.

"You're welcome." Butler smiled down at him. "If I could help you somehow…"

"You could. Fetch Juliet and go into the Emerald Room, both of you. I'll ask my parents to join us there." Young Fowl glanced at his fiancée, then back at his old friend "We've got to tell them a story, and I might need your help with it."

"Gladly, Artemis." The one-time bodyguard nodded and headed for the door.

"Oh, and Butler…"

"Yes?"

"If everything turns out all right, will you be my best man?"

A huge smile spread on the elderly man's face. "I'd be honoured, Artemis."

* * *

"What could Artemis want to tell us?" Fowl Senior wondered as his wife readied herself for the 'big talk' in front of her vanity table.

"I don't know, Timmy." Angeline shook her head, fishing a pearl necklace out of her jewel box. "But Butler sounded pretty serious…" She turned around to face her husband. "Perhaps Arty's broken up with Holly?"

"Am I imagining things or is there really a hopeful expression on your face, dear?" Artemis the First asked sardonically.

"Why?" Angeline dropped the necklace into her lap. "Aren't I allowed to hope? Miracles happen once in a while."

Her husband clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing the room. "I seriously don't understand you. Why do you hate that poor girl so much?"

"You really don't understand me," Angeline snapped. "I don't _hate_ Holly. I'm rather… afraid of her."

"Afraid?" Mr. Fowl raised his black eyebrows at her. "What for?"

His wife turned back to the mirror, facing away from him. "I… I don't know, Timmy. I couldn't explain it. Somehow she… she gives me the creeps. She's more than just a pretty face. She seems so very, very different from all of us… Remember when she didn't know what a napkin was used for?"

"Yes, I do." Artemis Senior smiled to himself. "She made a rather nice paper dragon of it, though…"

"But Timmy!"

"Angeline, dear, it's possible she just spent too much time in Japan, that's where her fascination with origami comes from. It doesn't mean she's from Mars!"

Seeing the shocked expression on his wife's face he realised that he'd just voiced her greatest fears. "Angeline… you don't think she's an alien, do you?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if she were," she replied defiantly. "She's too weird, and don't say you haven't noticed it, Timmy!"

"I have." Fowl Senior shrugged. "But I don't mind. As long as Arty loves her…"

"That's exactly what I mean!" Angeline hopped up from her seat, the pearl necklace landing on the floor. "Arty's in her power! Perhaps she hypnotized him, or bewitched him, or…"

"Angeline, enough of this!"

The woman looked at her husband through teary eyes. He had never yelled at her like that before. Her little Arty had yelled at her too… and it's all because of Holly Short…

"Right, Mr Fowl." She drew herself up, blinking back her tears. "I will not voice my assumptions in the future. But don't say I haven't warned you."

* * *

"I don't know what takes them so long," Artemis said in an annoyed voice. He, Holly and the Butler siblings had been waiting in the Emerald Room for over half an hour.

Holly reached out and squeezed his hand. "Perhaps your mum can't decide what to wear…"

Artemis had to hide a grimace. His mother was indeed very choosy when it came to clothing and whenever his parents went out to the opera or a party, Angeline needed at least three hours to get ready.

Artemis couldn't be thankful enough for a mate who didn't have a fetish about elegance and didn't need to spend hours in the bathroom every morning and evening. Not that Holly didn't dress nicely - she had a great taste in clothing, but she always kept to the simplest dresses. She was elegant in her own way, and Artemis sometimes couldn't help being surprised how different she looked in a yellow summer dress than in her L.E.P. uniform…

Finally Mr and Mrs Fowl entered, and Artemis immediately saw that his mother had been crying. She had tried to conceal it with liberal amounts of make-up, but she couldn't do anything against the redness of her eyes. Noticing Holly holding hands with Artemis, Angeline's bloodshot eyes narrowed, and her husband didn't need to guess why: if the young ones were holding hands like this, it was impossible they had just broken up… very much the opposite. Artemis the First wouldn't have been surprised if his son's first words were 'we're having a baby', but he knew that it would only give his wife another reason to complain about Holly behind her back…

Fowl Junior felt Holly squeeze his hand again and cast a sideways glance at her to see that now she was nervous. Apparently she too had noticed Angeline's bad mood and knew that their announcement could be even less welcomed if Artemis's mother was currently emotionally instable.

"Well," the Fowl patriarch spoke up, seating himself opposite the young couple. Angeline took a place next to him but didn't look at her son and Holly, nor her husband. She defiantly focused her glance at the Persian carpet instead.

"Well," younger Artemis echoed his father, "we've asked you to come here because we need to tell you something important."

Angeline now lifted her glance and stared at her son through narrowed eyes. Anyone in Artemis's place would have shuddered at her icy glance, but Artemis decided to act as impassively as possible and pretend he hadn't noticed her bad mood at all. He saw that Angeline's eyes were challenging him to say 'yes, Mum, it is as you expected, Holly's pregnant…', so he thought it better to start their announcements with something completely different.

"It all began with your disappearance, Father," Artemis said.

Angeline sent her son a confused look. Well, that didn't sound a bit like Holly being pregnant, did it?

"My disappearance?" Fowl Senior asked back.

"Exactly, Father." Artemis nodded. "After you went missing, I spent most of the family's fortune on searching missions, and our bank accounts were depleted to such an extent that I knew I had to find a new source of income. That was when I decided to kidnap a fairy for ransom."

"Kidnap a… what?" his father coughed.

_Typical_, Artemis thought. His father, the one-time criminal, was not shocked by the fact that he was talking about 'kidnap', but by the fact that it was a 'fairy' he was talking about.

"You heard it well," Artemis said calmly. "And don't worry, Father, I'm not crazy. Butler and Juliet reacted the same way when I first told them about my plans for getting money."

"Exactly," Juliet chimed in. "I told Arty that fairies only existed in… well, fairy tales, but… I was wrong."

Perplexed, Angeline glanced from her son to her husband, then to Juliet. As none of them seemed very helpful, she finally looked at Butler, who, noticing her glance, diverted his eyes. Apparently even he felt awkward about the whole situation.

"Butler?" she asked in a demanding voice.

The manservant looked back at her and reluctantly nodded. "It is as Artemis and Juliet say, madam."

"May I continue?" Artemis spoke up. "Thank you. So, my plan was to capture a fairy and demand fairy gold in return for setting him free. However, things turned out a bit different than I had expected. For one, the 'he' I wanted to kidnap happened to be a 'she', whom I not only released for _half_ of the agreed amount of gold, but whom I also befriended…" He cast a glance at Holly, then at his parents, "…and whom I've recently fallen in love with."

Angeline gasped and pressed her hands on her heart while Artemis the First raised an eyebrow at Holly, but his expression didn't seem shocked or scandalised, rather amused. He knew his son enough to know that 'Arty' was the most peculiar boy on the face of earth, and naturally a peculiar person would choose another peculiar person as his life mate. There wasn't anything surprising about it. Well, the 'existence' of fairies _did_ sound surprising, but…

"So, you're a… fairy, Holly?" Fowl Senior asked.

"Yes, sir. To be precise, I'm an elf."

"Like the elves in Tolkien's books?"

"Not really." Holly shook her head with a smile. "Tolkien's elves are human-sized with pointy ears. _Real_ elves are three feet tall, have nut-coloured skin and pointy ears."

"Three feet tall? Nut-coloured skin?" the elderly man echoed Holly's words. "But you don't look a bit…"

"Because I drank the MMM," the elf replied.

"The what?"

Holly and Artemis looked at each other, as if communicating through some nonexistent mind-link. The young woman seemed to hesitate, but seeing her fiancé's 'reasoning' expression, she nodded. Artemis was right - if they had already spilled some beans, why not spill some more? If they wanted to talk about the way they had got _this close_, they needed to mention Patrick. There was no other way.

"There's a serum that can make a fairy look like a human," Artemis explained. "A serum invented by… our son."

Anyone who hadn't heard the young man's last few words would have thought that Angeline had suddenly got a dangerous bout of asthma.

A few minutes later when Juliet had managed to force some water down Madam Fowl's throat and her coughs ceased, silence fell on the Emerald Room.

It was Artemis's father who broke the silence. "Your… _son_? Excuse me for my curiosity, but how is that possible? First, you're both too young to have a son old enough to invent anything, second, didn't you say Miss Short was a… um… virgin just two months ago?"

Holly frowned at Artemis but decided not to make the situation even more difficult by questioning him about telling his parents such intimate things. So she rather turned to the Fowl patriarch. "Mr Fowl," she began, "first: I'm not exactly… young, at least not by human standards. Fairies happen to have long lives. They can live thousands of years, and with my 94 years I count as young in the fairy society."

"Ni-ninety four?" Angeline stammered.

Holly nodded. "I look about the same age as Artemis, but yes, I'm old compared to him. And well… I'm likely to outlive him with about a thousand and five hundred years…"

"…and that's exactly what I had doubts about when Holly decided to leave her world and live with me," Artemis added. "I asked her whether it would hurt her to see me grow old and die…"

"…and I told him that certainly it would, but I have this single chance in my life to be happy with someone I love, and I didn't want to miss it," Holly concluded. "And back to your other question, Mr Fowl, two months ago I was a virgin. My son… _our_ son has been conceived artificially. In a petri dish. And… without Artemis knowing." She bit into her lower lip and sent her fiancé a propitiatory glance. "I will always feel sorry for having used you-"

"No." Artemis gently pressed his index finger on her lips. "Don't. You had your reasons. And I'm proud of Patrick."

"P…Patrick?" Angeline muttered, still as white as a sheet. "Is he… is he… your son?"

The young couple nodded.

Another minute of silence followed that was again broken by Fowl Senior. "I don't know about Angeline, but I'd love to hear about my… _grandson_."

As though the ice had broken, Artemis and Holly started to talk, and once in a while even Juliet put in a few words.

"Foaly, the technical genius fell ill and there was no one to take care of the communications systems, and…"

"…Patrick is so much like Artemis, yes, he has pointy ears and red hair, but his eyes are all Artemis's! He even talks and thinks like his father!"

"Yeah, I've noticed that…"

"The point is that Patrick was kidnapped…"

"You couldn't imagine my surprise when I found out I was a father…"

"…I could have stifled that Quench…"

"…we ended up near Chichén Itza…"

"…those bloody mosquitoes…"

"…I fell in the river…"

"…and once we were in the Aztec village…"

"Hey, I did not want to shag the princess!"

"…Artemis shot the jaguar! A real archer, true to his name!"

"Then there were those rickety mountains that looked like two mutant hedgehogs…"

"…and Artemis even joked about some King Leo…"

"That was Leonidas, love."

"Whatever."

"…then came the endless path and…"

"The golden statue was on a plinth…"

"Frazetti was getting more and more confused by the moment. She simply didn't know whom to trust…"

"I though my heart broke to pieces when Artemis left…"

"…I felt the same, Holly. I was depressed for the first time in my life… Butler can attest to it…"

"…I drank the serum and here I am."

By the time they'd finished recounting the events it had gone dark outside and the Fowl parents' heads were buzzing with the amount of new information about fairies, the Aztecs and the dangers of the Mexican jungle. Pyramids, _mesmer_, predators (they still couldn't believe their little Arty had shot one) and several horrible tasks…

Neither Artemis the First nor Angeline had noticed their son squeezing Holly's wrist when she'd begun talking about a path that lead through nothingness… only Holly had noticed it, alongside with the pleading glance in her lover's eyes. She understood that he didn't want to talk about his lost intelligence to his parents - at least not yet. So, she altered that part of the story by leaving out the Voice.

All the way through the story-telling Angeline had been wrinkling her tissue, and at the end she found that she was on the verge of tears. How she had misjudged this girl! True, Holly wasn't an angel - no, far from it. She was a _fairy_. Not perfect, not a well-behaved noblewoman, but at least she never thirsted for Artemis's money, and she'd even given up her old life to start a new one with him…

Angeline could no longer ignore the fact that Holly _loved_ her son. Still, she didn't know whether she'd ever learn to accept this girl… She couldn't help thinking that Holly was even more dangerous than someone who only wanted her little Arty for his money… What horrible dangers she had dragged her son through just to save their son - a son whom Arty had never even wanted!

There were too many reasons why Angeline could have continued hating Holly, but inexplicably she couldn't find it in her heart. She knew what being a mother meant - a mother would do anything for her child, and Holly had only done that. She'd used all the help she could to save the boy. And for that Angeline couldn't be angry with her. Her mind told her that she should; after all, this fairy chick had caused so much trouble for Arty, but… she'd done so much for Arty in return. If she could believe her son, then it was Holly who taught him how to face his emotions and it was also Holly who convinced him that gathering wealth wasn't the most important thing in the world (Angeline had always felt uneasy about her son's earlier passion of moneymaking). This girl must have indeed _bewitched_ him, but in the good sense of the word…

Angeline was too confused to decide how she should react. So, she rather chose to be silent.

"Well, Artemis, Holly…" Mr Fowl spoke up, "that all sounded great, but there's one thing I don't understand. If fairies are so careful to avoid humans finding out about them, then why did you tell us this whole story? You needn't have. I mean… you could have continued living without us knowing…"

"Not exactly, Father," his son replied. "Truth be told we wouldn't have told you about it if certain circumstances hadn't forced us to…"

"What circumstances?" Angeline asked in a shaky voice.

Artemis and Holly exchanged a glance and a smile. "We're having a baby."

* * *

**A/N:** next chapter: the engagement party with a few little problems. And now: review, please! 


	4. Spilling the Beans Part II

**A/N:** just letting you know that I've made a coverart for this fic as well, and its link is in my ffnet bio, in the 'Artemis Fowl links' section.

_El Diablo Ella Misma:_ yes, poetic licence :) Actually, I decided that fairy gestation period is one month shorter than the human because fairies are smaller. They don't need nine months to develop inside their mum's belly. This will be mentioned in the epilogue.

_I should be Studying:_ nice to see you again! And yes, it's going to be daring. Perhaps a little too daring… I must admit I was sort of afraid of certain aspects of the plot :D

_Mistri, Tonks' Admirer:_ as you know, I'm not Australian. And I had no idea that only they say 'no worries'. So, you can't drive a car? No problem, neither can I (then again, I'm not a man;) I don't like Angeline in this fic either. Someone said she was like Petunia. Well, maybe. And Holly WILL shout things like that at Arty… in the epilogue ;)

_Queen Dragon:_ Attila isn't much like Artemis - at least if he is, it WASN'T intended. They both have black hair yes, but that's all.

_Perry:_ not yet.

_refloc:_ I only saw 'mesmer' spelled like 'mesmer'. Then again, we might have read different editions of the books.

_Bananaz the Sugar Monkey:_ the arguing was in the chapter before you even suggested it :)

_Anonymous:_ I am still doing AF arts, just no so often anymore. See my comment at the top. Also, I'm planning to do a pic on A/H's wedding too.

_Marissa the Scamp:_ thanks :) As for Timmy not freaking out… I see him as a calm, composed gentleman. When he's sober, that is…

_C-chan1:_ yeah, obviously, the 'no one wants to harm my family' won't last long. I posted the link to the Orion Awards into my ffnet bio and will leave the link there for a couple of weeks.

_Chixawitch:_ who said Angeline has really accepted Holly? Read this chapter and you'll see ;)

_someone who likes your story:_ Opal and Mulch? Well, Opal will only have a few minutes of role, but Mulch will be around a lot.

Also thanks to: _Zodokai, helo, avovisto, hogwartscharmed1, iccy, Trouble Kelp, AutumnBreeze25, aperfectattitude, Phoenix Master, Rhauth, BeatlesLover, Indigo Ziona, chocolate smudge, Holly Rox, Fleury, frenchpiment, septempopuli, The OddBird, Lady Emerald Black, Teya Yashitoda, CheshireHare, Fudge1, The Flying Moose, AprilEchidna, AnnieThePipster, Adaia Swordmaiden_

This is probably the sappiest chapter of all (or perhaps chapter five is the sappiest, can't decide) so grin and bear it :)

* * *

**

Chapter 4

**

Spilling the Beans - Part II

"W…what?" gasped Angeline.

"Holly and I are going to have a baby, Mother," Artemis repeated.

Fowl Senior seemed to be struggling with himself, uncertain whether to gather both Artemis and Holly into his arms or remain impassive. Finally the Fowl in him won over the proud father/grandfather, and, as aloofly as possible, he said: "I see. Still, I don't understand why it was necessary for you to tell us all about Holly's real self, even if you are going to have a child."

"_Because_ of the _child_, Father," his son replied. "It's going to be half-elven, so it probably will take after Holly… Holly's _elf-self_, to be correct."

Angeline paled even more at the idea of her grandchild having dark skin and pointy ears.

"It was to spare you the shock, Mr Fowl," Holly added.

"Spare us the shock," Artemis the First muttered under his breath. "You've managed it…"

"There's no need for sarcasm, Father. We just wanted to make sure you get used to the thought of possibly having a grandchild who is… different. Who looks different… at least for a while. Once he's a few months old, we'll feed him Patrick's invention, and he'll look completely human… but inside he will still be different. Very likely he'll develop slower than humans. How much slower exactly, Holly?"

"Well, Patrick has actually developed quite quickly so far, I think just as quick as human children, but all fairies develop quick in the first 10-15 years, then their development slows down. The older they get, the slower they grow older."

"So it's possible that our grandchild will look ten at the age of thirty?" asked Mr Fowl.

"Possibly." Holly nodded reluctantly.

"Great," Angeline hissed. "Just great. Exactly what we needed! An abnormal grandchild! An abnormal Fowl!" She jumped up from the sofa, practically shaking with rage. All the understanding and new-found sympathy she'd felt for Holly for a few minutes had evaporated. "An abnormal _Fowl_! Because… I take… you're getting married now, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mother, we are," Artemis replied as calmly as possible. "And yes, if we get married, then our _abnormal_ child will be called Fowl. If you can't bear the thought, Holly and I can move out and I promise we won't bother you, ever." With that he stood up, and so did Holly. "If you can't accept my fiancée and child as part of your family, then we'll found a new family. You can even disinherit me, I have enough money of my own. My _real_ family will never be in need."

"Artemis…" His father took a step towards him and Holly. "Your mother didn't mean it like that… did you, Angeline?"

The lady of Fowl Manor flashed him with a bitter glance. The quivering of her lips showed that she was on the verge of saying 'no, of course not', but she still managed to keep her dignity, and instead of replying like an obedient little wife, she turned on her heels and marched out of the Emerald Room.

"I'm sorry," Fowl Senior sighed. "She's a little… nervous these days. But I'm sure she'll come to her senses. Just give her a little time."

Artemis's face revealed disgust and disbelief. Holly, next to him, hung her head.

"I doubt she will ever accept me, Mr Fowl," she whispered. "Perhaps this was a mistake."

"What? Telling my parents?" asked Artemis.

"No. Coming to live with you. I've ruined your relationship with your parents…"

"Don't talk about parents in plural, Holly," the Fowl patriarch said softly. "You haven't ruined my relationship with my son. And I don't mind you being here. Well, you've caused us a bit of a shock, that's true, and this baby is even more of a shock, but… there's nothing we couldn't get used to. I'm sure I'll love that kid even if it's born wearing a LIP helmet…"

"That's L.E.P," Holly said, smiling faintly at her future father-in-law.

Artemis the First smiled back. "Come here, both of you."

Artemis and Holly obediently leaned into the older man's embrace.

* * *

In their room, Holly sank onto the bed with a sigh. Artemis sat down next to her and put an arm around her. She bent her head on his shoulder.

They sat like that for minutes, neither of them uttering a single word. The only noise was the concert of the crickets that came through the half-open window.

It was a peaceful, balmy summer night - but in their hearts there was no trace of peace. Even like this, in a quiet embrace, they could feel the nervousness and frustration emanating from each other.

"I know it's not easy," Artemis spoke up after a while, "but Father has nothing against you and the baby… and Mother too will calm down. She can't help it, she easily gets nervous. Even though you healed her from her madness, deep in her there's still something left of it. Perhaps she doesn't remember a thing of it, but she's still… wounded. She can never fully heal…"

"I understand that," Holly replied sadly, "but it doesn't change the fact that she can't accept me. She will never accept me. I was horribly wrong thinking that she'd learnt to like me since I moved in here. She was just pretending to like me, to please you, wasn't she?" She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him questioningly.

Feeling her intent gaze on him, he turned to face her. "Yes, Holly," he sighed. "She was pretending. She was afraid she might lose me, because…"

"…Because…?"

He shook his head. "I never wanted to tell you this, but you deserve to know. The first day when you left with Juliet to buy some clothes, I overheard a discussion between my parents, and Mother was beside herself, calling you all sorts of things… I got so angry that I could no longer stand there and listen - I told… well, rather _shouted_ at her that if she wasn't any nicer to you in the future, she'd never see me again. She got frightened… so scared that she decided to play. And now that I reminded her of my previous threat, she could no longer take it, so she fled. She's a weak person, Holly."

"Perhaps weak, but apparently she's the only rational one here," she replied.

"What do you mean?"

"We've been too blinded by love to notice that this couldn't work. Even if I look like a human, I'm still a fairy, and will always be a fairy. And your mother's right - our child is going to be abnormal. For both the fairies and the humans. It could even have… genetic disorders, don't you think?"

Artemis hung his head and stared at the floor. Truth was that he hadn't thought of this today, but he _had_ thought of the risks of cross-species breeding months ago, in the Aztec village. There he had found the mere idea of himself and Holly having a child 'the traditional way' ridiculous. And now that he knew they had conceived one, he had to admit that it hadn't yet crossed his mind that the child could be anything but healthy. But, without Foaly artificially manipulating the baby's genes, thousands of things could go wrong. And gene-manipulation could only be done _before_ the fertilized egg was planted into the mother's womb, not after. Not even fairy-surgeons could have changed the baby's genetic profile any longer.

Had he not lost his exceptional intelligence, this very likely wouldn't have happened, he mused. The old Artemis would have thought of the dangers of having offspring with a fairy… the old Artemis would have been rational enough to insist on using contraceptives. Today's Artemis was neither rational nor clever enough to think of it - today's Artemis was thinking with his heart, not his brains.

At this thought he felt such disgust with his new self as he'd never felt before.

"Artemis?" Holly reached out to tap his hand and shook him back to reality.

"What? Oh… yes. Yes, unfortunately. I think genetic problems can't be closed out." He still didn't look at her.

"Then your mother's truly right," she whispered. "It's all a big mistake. I can't ruin your and your family's life with my abnormality… and that of my child."

Artemis finally lifted his glance to meet hers. "What are you talking about?"

"I have to leave, Artemis."

"Leave? But… but… where?"

"I don't know. Just… away from here."

"If you really want to… I understand. We could move into Dublin, or…"

"You didn't understand me," she interrupted. "_I_ have to leave. _Alone_."

"You don't mean it… you can't mean it."

"I'm sorry, Artemis, but that's the only solution…"

"And where would you move, eh? Back to Haven? In your human form you can't, and you know that as long as you're pregnant, you can't change back to a fairy!"

"I know that!" Holly jumped up from the bed, turning her back on him. "I… I don't know where I could go, but… I know I can't stay here."

Artemis walked up to her and gently put his hands on her shoulders. "Don't you remember how Father welcomed you in the family just a few minutes ago? Would you want to ignore his sympathy? Would you want to disappoint Juliet? You're her only female friend. Butler likes you too… As for me... just so that you know, you haven't ruined my life… you've made it better. You're my other half. Without you, I don't know what I would do. I'd follow you wherever you went, but I can't stay behind and watch you leave… watch you walk out of my life… I love you, Holly."

She turned around with teary eyes. "I love you too. I'm just so… scared."

"Scared of my mother?" He asked with a small smile.

"I think so," Holly replied with an embarrassed grimace. "Mother-in-laws can make one's life a living hell… I remember seeing a series that was about a human princess called Sissi… You know, we have all these Mud Man channels underground… So, this Sissi married France Joseph, the emperor of Austria, and France Joseph's mother, Princess Sophie made her life unbearable. And this wasn't a made-up story, it was true, it happened."

"I know," Artemis said, pulling Holly down with him to sit on the bed. "I've learned about the Habsburgs at history class. But my mother isn't like Princess Sophie. Well, of course she would have liked me to marry someone else, just as Sophie didn't approve of her son's choice of wife; but we aren't living in the nineteenth century, and don't have to respect our parents' opinion."

"Neither do we, the fairies," she answered. "But about a century ago we still had to. There was a stupid marriage law that forced the girls to marry whomever their fathers had picked for them. Thank heaven this law was abolished shortly before I was born…"

"Not that I can imagine you marrying anyone against your will, even if that law was still valid." Artemis grinned.

"No, I can't imagine myself letting anyone force me to get married either." She grinned back.

"See, you're smiling again. That's the Holly I love so much." Artemis reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek. "Don't let anyone get you down! Not even my mother! And don't you _ever_ think of leaving me!"

"Possessive, commanding… a typical Fowl. I thought this quality of yours has been lost…" Holly's eyes were twinkling mischievously.

"You love the 'typical Fowl', admit it."

"Okay, okay I do!" Holly laughed and leaned in to kiss him. When they parted, her features were back to serious. "But really, what will we do if the baby's not healthy?"

"I don't know." Artemis shook his head. "Better not think of it. He's going to be all right. He'll be a wonderful little half-human with magic skills and he'll inherit my… original brains. After all, my DNA must still have traces of my old intellect…" He tried to force his voice to sound happy and carefree. "Also, he'll have your eyes, my hair, and those cute little pointy ears…"

"Do you think pointy ears are cute?"

"I happen to think they're sexy. Especially on you. I kind of miss them…" He muttered, snuggling his face into her neck and kissing his way up to her left ear.

"Artemis?"

"Yes?"

"You keep referring to the baby as 'he'. Would you be disappointed if it were a girl?"

"If she's going to be as pretty and spunky as her mother, then no. Not a bit. Just don't teach her to punch people in the face."

* * *

_One week later_

Holly yawned. Sunshine must have come through the window because she felt its warmth on her face. Revelling in the pleasant, warm feeling, she smiled, her eyes still closed. How she'd grown to love sunshine in the past two months! She couldn't have explained it to herself, but she had a feeling that her love for daylight had been something that had always been there, buried deep inside her, but it had only surfaced when she left Haven in the body of a Mud Woman. As an elf, she had loved flying and stargazing on clear, cloudless nights, but she had been wary of sunrays. Now she could enjoy them without having to worry about the loss of her magic. Yes, living aboveground was very nice, she decided as she reached up to rub her eyes.

"Don't."

Blinking in a sleepy-confused way, she squinted at the direction the voice had come from.

At the end of the bed sat Artemis with a sketchbook-sort-of thing on his lap.

"Wha… whatcha doin'?" she muttered, still too drowsy to speak coherently.

"Drawing you," he replied.

"What?" Holly frowned.

"When I woke up today, I found you in this position, and you were so unbelievably beautiful that I felt I had to try… had to try whether…"

"…Whether what?" she asked, and obediently refrained from moving her arm, no matter how much she felt like stretching and rubbing her eyes.

"…whether I could still draw," came the silent reply.

Holly glanced at him to see that he'd bitten into his lower lip, making him look like an embarrassed little boy. His hair was tousled (apparently he hadn't yet had a chance to comb it) and he wasn't wearing a top, only a pyjama bottom.

"And… can you?" she whispered back.

"Judge it yourself… in about ten minutes."

"So I have to lay still for another ten minutes?" Holly groaned theatrically. "I have to pee, you know."

Artemis pretended not to have heard her complaint and continued working. A stray jet-black lock fell into his eyes, making him look both serious and slightly comical. Holly had barely ever seen him this serious-looking and absorbed-in-his-work before, but she hadn't yet found him this funny before either: an artist with morning hair and a yeti-patterned pyjama bottom (Artemis had been thoroughly embarrassed when she'd first spotted this piece of clothing in his wardrobe - his mother had bought it for him years earlier but he'd refused to wear it until Holly told him she found it downright sexy).

"Ready," he announced a little more than ten minutes later.

Holly quickly hopped out of bed, both because she really needed to use the toilet and because she was too curious to see the art.

"Artemis, this is… breathtaking," she said as she leaned over his shoulder from behind to have a look at the picture.

"Apparently the artistic talent is the only thing that remained of my earlier self." He said dryly. Holly couldn't see his face, but judging by his sarcastic tone, she was sure he was wearing a wry expression. 

"You could have drawn some clothes on me, you know," she remarked, just to change the conversation from his lost genius. This early in the morning she didn't feel up to discussing such serious topics.

"Why, you weren't wearing any," he replied.

She chuckled. "I hope you don't plan on showing this to your parents."

He turned slightly to look up at her. "I bet Father would like it."

"And your mother would be scarred for life." She smirked. "What's it called?"

"Well…" Artemis turned completely around, put an arm around her waist and smiled up at her, "The title is '_Mother of my children_'."

"Oh Arty…" She shook her head, suddenly tears brimming her eyes. "See what you're doing to me?" She half-giggled, half-sniffed.

"It's not me, but your hormones, dear. They have finally kicked in," he replied matter-of-factly. "And that's not the only thing that's changing about you…" His eyes shamelessly focused on her chest. "Actually, I pretty much like the changes…"

"Arty, you little pervert, it's getting bigger for the _baby_, not for you," Holly pointed out.

"Spoilsport." He made a grimace. "Er… are you all right?"

Holly's face had gone ashen, and all she could do was shake her head, and ripping herself out of his grip, ran into the adjacent bathroom.

* * *

"And I was complaining I hadn't had a chance to experience the joys of pregnancy with Patrick!" Holly huffed five minutes later when she returned to the bedroom, supported by Artemis. "I'm not going to eat pepperoni-curry pizza for dinner again… ever."

"Can't your magic do something about morning sickness?" Artemis wondered.

"Apparently not. It's not a wound that should be sealed, and not even an illness that my magic would want to fight against… it's so as they say, _natural_, so my magic doesn't detect it as something it should cure," she replied sarcastically.

"Cheer up, Patrick and Julius will be here in half an hour." Artemis gently patted her on the back, not really knowing how to make her feel better.

"Ooooohhhh… it's Wednesday already?" she groaned. "I forgot."

"How could you forget that today's our engagement?" He gave her a would-be-hurt look. "It's the men who forget things like that, you know…"

"I… I'm sorry. I was just too… preoccupied, I think. Everything's been a blur the last week…"

Artemis couldn't blame Holly for being confused and forgetful, as he felt quite distracted too. Since the day they had told his parents about Holly's real self and pregnancy, events had accelerated to such an extent that things just seemed to fly by. One day after the fateful announcement Angeline had deigned to visit them in Artemis's room and apologise for her behaviour, and even congratulated them on their impending marriage. Artemis could see the forced smile on her face and couldn't help but notice the shaking quality of her voice as she wished them all the happiness in the world, but he was thankful to her for at least trying to pretend that she was growing to like the idea of having Holly as her daughter-in-law.

To make up for her previous coldness towards Holly, Angeline started the wedding arrangements with as much enthusiasm as Artemis had only once seen from her before, the day his father had woken up from his coma in the Helsinki hospital.

Angeline's enthusiasm was nothing compared to Juliet's, though. The Butler girl was downright ecstatic about the upcoming wedding and had taken the reluctant Holly to a dozen bridal boutiques. Holly would have gladly picked the first white dress she came across, but Juliet was resolute to get the finest things for her best friend's wedding attire. In less than five days Holly had been forced to try on one hundred and forty-three different dresses, fifty-seven tiaras and veils, not to mention the three dozen pairs of snow white court shoes. After the fifth day of futile attempts at finding something that Juliet liked on Holly, the fairy told her friend she wouldn't mind getting married in jeans and trainers if she was spared all the fuss that way.

She and Artemis had been to the Registry Office to get the marriage licence, they had visited a dozen jewellery shops to pick the rings and Artemis even insisted on pre-ordering the bouquet at the most elegant florist shop of Dublin. After all this, no wonder Holly was so exhausted that she'd forgotten about the official engagement that was supposed to take place today, with only the Fowls, Butlers, Fowl Senior's best friend plus Patrick and Julius present.

When Artemis and Holly had told the Fowl parents to expect young Short and his 'uncle' to the engagement party, Artemis thought he'd seen real excitement in his mother's eyes - not forced enthusiasm but a true longing to meet her little grandson.

"I hope mother will grow to like Patrick," Artemis said, absentmindedly reaching for a sock.

"But… what if not?" moaned Holly. "I'm so nervous, I think I'm going to throw up again."

"Take deep breaths. And don't worry, Patrick is a wonderful little boy… so much like me at his age… why would _anyone_ dislike him?"

She gave him an incredulous stare, only to see that he was impishly grinning. "And I thought you _meant_ it." She rolled her eyes.

Artemis let out a chuckle. "I sort of meant it. I was an adorably nasty little git, wasn't I?"

"Yeah, especially when you made me think that you had forced me to drink a truth serum," she said in an accusatory tone. "I could have stifled you, you know."

Artemis just grinned smugly. "I bet that wasn't the only case when you wanted to stifle me… Have you ever thought of how different your life could have been if you'd never met me?"

She was caught off guard by this question. "Well… yes," she admitted, looking slightly embarrassed. "Several times, actually."

"Before the Aztec incident, or even after it?"

"Even after it… but the Aztec incident changed my views about you… about everything."

"What has changed? I mean, besides you falling for the most eligible bachelor on Earth?"

Ignoring his last comment, she shrugged. "A lot. Before Patrick was born, you were the bane of my life. Well, not always, but… most of the time. After his birth, I was sort of… thankful to you, for giving him to me…"

"You're welcome. But I would have preferred if you'd asked for my consent first…" Seeing a pained expression flash across her face, he quickly added: "Don't worry, I'm not blaming you anymore. I like the boy. He's too much like me, and Fowls love themselves… most of the time." He looked away, and she knew why he'd added the last four words.

"How can I help you?" she whispered, taking his hand.

"No one can help me." He shook his head. "It's not even worth talking about."

"But it is! It's still eating at you, and if we don't cure it, it will become an illness that will consume you and kill you! Slowly, gently, but it _will_ kill you! You're withering away in front of my eyes, Artemis!"

"Withering?" He arched an eyebrow at her. "I'm not withering. I just… haven't yet got used to being… average. But I will. Just give me some more time, and I'll prove I can, I…"

She pressed her hand on his lips, silencing him. "You're lying to yourself. To the whole world, Artemis! You're lying to your parents by not telling them what you've lost, you're lying to me by pretending to be happy about this child and the engagement and everything… and you're lying to yourself as well… You've convinced yourself that everything's fine, you're suppressing your grief…"

"Am not!" He stood up, almost ripping himself out of her arms. "I'm… I'm happy! I love you, and I want to marry you, and I can barely wait to see our baby, and…"

Holly just sat on the bed, tears brimming her eyes. "If you don't admit it to yourself, you will never heal," she said quietly.

"Admit what?" he snapped. "That I'm trying to forget that I'm mentally crippled? Trying to ignore that I'm the shadow of my old self and am spending my days shagging you senseless just to tire myself out enough to be unable to _think_? Is that what you wanted to hear from me? Yes?"

Now tears were freely flowing down Holly's cheeks, and she said what he'd less expected to hear from her. "Yes, Artemis. That's what you needed to admit."

Shaking with nerves from head to toe, Artemis fell on his knees. "S…sorry, Holly. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," she whispered, slightly bending and pulling him into her arms. With his quivering body and ragged breathing, he seemed like a sick little boy. And indeed, he was sick, but his sickness wasn't of bodily origins, it had spiritual roots. And such illnesses needed much longer time to heal… "You asked what has changed," she whispered into his ear, gently stroking his head, "the whole world has changed, for me at least. Two months ago I came here to ask for your help to find our son, and I found here more than I expected. I found a friend. A soul-mate. Someone who made me become more than I used to be… and I'm not letting my soul-mate become less than he used to be."

He pulled back a bit and looked up at her. "I adore you for your strength of will, Holly, but you can't go back and change the past to give me back what I lost. No one can."

* * *

Shortly after this little interaction, Artemis and Holly walked downstairs, feeling rather uneasy. They had always loved arguing with each other, but what had taken place between then just fifteen minutes earlier had not been their usual 'arguing for fun'. It had been serious.

On their way downstairs Artemis was reluctant to speak, and Holly was again almost shaking with nerves, both due to Artemis's outburst and her fear that Patrick and Root's visit would turn out to be a catastrophe. This was definitely not how she'd imagined her engagement as a young girl… then again, as an adolescent fairy she had never imagined herself marrying a Mud Man… Had someone just a few years ago told her that she'd marry Artemis Fowl, she would have knocked them out, either with a well-aimed punch or with an elegant shot from her Neutrino.

At the bottom of the stairs stood Artemis the First, Angeline, Juliet and Butler.

"Is everything all right?" asked the lady of Fowl Manor in a worried voice.

"Yes, Mother, why are you asking?" replied Artemis coldly.

"You just seem a bit…" Angeline seemed to be searching for words, but her husband helped her out:

"Stiff, I think that's what your mother wanted to say."

"Exactly, dear." Angeline nodded, her diamond earrings swinging around her ears. "You seem a little stiff for a wonderful day like this, both of you."

"Just… just a little morning sickness," Holly said. "Artemis was worried about me."

"And are you feeling all right now?" Juliet enquired.

"Yes, yes, I'm okay. I told Artemis not to worry." Holly gave her lover a fake smile. "I'm fine dear, really. Morning sicknesses just come and go, they don't last all day."

"Just as Holly says, Arty, dear," Angeline said with a benign smile.

Artemis sent his fiancée a dark look. Having an argument about his lost genius with Holly was one thing, but letting his mother treat him like a complete idiot in front of his father, Butler and _Juliet_ of all people was something wholly different. Juliet could be horrible when teasing him about Angeline still treating him like a little boy.

"Who's been invited?" he asked quickly to change the topic.

"I only invited Cesare," the Fowl patriarch replied, "so very likely he will be the only guest, besides our grandson and that Root person… are you sure they are coming?"

"If Haven hasn't been attacked by a horde of armed trolls, then they _will_ be coming," Holly reassured her future in-laws.

"Let's sit down in the Red Salon until then, shall we?" Butler suggested.

"Good idea, my throat has gone all dry," Artemis the First replied cheerfully, entering the nearby salon and making a beeline for the cocktail cabinet.

"Timmy, dear, we should wait for the guests before we propose a toast," his wife reminded him with a disapproving glance.

"Angeline, honey, we're saving the champagne for the toast, but I need a little bit of whisky right now. You know it's good for my heart…"

Rolling her eyes, the woman took a place on a crimson sofa that fit the scarlet carpets and claret velvet curtains perfectly. If Timmy wanted to take a sip, it was all right. At least _his_ mood would be good enough for an engagement party; as neither did _she_ feel charmed by it, nor did the young couple seem as happy as they were supposed to be on a day like this.

Angeline watched her husband as he sipped his fine Irish whisky and for a few minutes nobody talked.

"By the way, Arty," the lord of Fowl Manor spoke up, apparently finding the silence unbearable, "I haven't yet had a chance to ask you why you turned down Oxford's request to hold a presentation on your latest Nobel-winning invention…"

Holly glanced at her fiancé, expecting him to say 'I was tired/uninterested/too busy with the wedding arrangements', but as her eyes met his, she saw a peculiar expression flash across his face. What was he planning to say? - she wondered. It was frightening how much she still didn't know him… most of the time he was still a mystery, a book that she had once in a while managed to open and thought she could read… but a book that turned out to be full of unrecognisable fonts that not even she with her wonderful talent at languages managed to decipher.

"Well, Father," Artemis sat back to look casual, "I didn't really feel like making a fool of myself in front of an auditorium full of students and professors, so I turned them down."

"Making a fool of yourself?" His father raised an eyebrow at him. "But you've never yet made a fool of yourself, Son."

"I didn't, in the past. Without my genius, I can now."

"Without your genius?" Angeline frowned.

"Ah, I think I've forgotten to mention that the Voice in the pyramid took my special talents. I'm no genius anymore, and I'm not going to invent anything in the future, nor do I feel up to making a presentation to anyone about my earlier achievements, as I no longer understand most of them," Artemis said as impassively as though he were talking about the weather.

"W…what?" Angeline breathed, while Artemis the First stood breathless, grasping his glass of whisky so tight that it was a wonder it didn't break in his grip.

"Didn't I express myself clearly?" Artemis asked.

"How… how did that happen?" His mother enquired, her voice quivering. "How could that voice-thingy take your genius?"

Artemis opened his mouth to reply, but Holly was faster. "Artemis gave it up, Mrs Fowl. The Voice demanded a sacrifice from us to let us get to the end of the endless path, and one of us had to give up their greatest talent. I offered to give up my magic, but Artemis didn't let me…" She looked at him, hoping to catch his eyes, but he was deliberately looking the other way, examining the chandelier. "He gave up his extreme intelligence to save me my magic… to save my fairy-self… and to save the world. Your son is a hero."

"Holly, spare me." Artemis rolled his eyes, downright thankful to the doorbell when it suddenly buzzed.

"They're here!" Angeline gasped, her 'concerned about Artemis' lost genius' expression immediately replaced by an excited and full of expectation look.

"Or it can be Cesare too," the elder Fowl said. "Though I told him to come at five o'clock, and it's only half past four… Cesare tends to be punctual."

"I do hope it's not your friend, Father," Artemis replied coldly. "It would be highly embarrassing to introduce Patrick to you in front of strangers like him."

"Cesare is no stranger, Son," Artemis the First said in a slightly hurt tone. "He's been my best friend since Cambridge."

"Best friend indeed," Artemis said sarcastically. "A best friend who refused to give me financial support when I ran out of money in the middle of searching for you. He didn't seem to care much about finding you!"

"Artemis, Artemis, I've told you enough times not to mistake friendship for business, haven't I?" his father lectured him - something that Artemis hated above all. "Money is business, friendship is friendship. There's no place for friendship in business."

"And is there place for business in friendship?" the young man riposted.

"I seriously don't understand you." The Fowl patriarch shook his head.

"I meant that your dear friend doesn't do anything that he doesn't find profitable. Once you were back from the Helsinki hospital, he turned up immediately and acted like the best friend again as though nothing had happened. He's not poor, but he knows you're much, much wealthier, Father. And I bet he's been very happy when you donated a few thousand Euros to his stupid excavations."

"Oh, Arty." Artemis the First rolled his eyes. "Cesare is an archaeologist who loves his job. Of course he gladly receives all donations! One cannot blame a man for loving his job!"

The young man made a pout. "As you please, Father. I still don't trust him. And as soon as I can, I'll get Holly another employer… if she still wants to work after the baby arrives, that is."

"Why _wouldn't_ I want to work?" the woman asked sharply. "And I don't see what you dislike about Mr. Cavalieri, he's a fine gentleman."

"Have it your way, then." Artemis shrugged. "Juliet, please answer the door. And if it's Mr. Cavalieri, lead him into the Emerald Room and tell him to wait. I don't want him here when the fairies arrive. And remember, to Signor Cavalieri Root is Holly's uncle and Patrick is Holly's nephew."

Juliet nodded and left the room, while Artemis ignored his father's piercing stare.

Everyone in the Red Salon waited with bated breaths until Root and Patrick - both under the effect of the MMM - appeared in the doorway.

Artemis cleared his throat, standing up, "Mother, Father, meet your grandson and the esteemed Commander Root."

"Milady, Mr Fowl." Root gave the elder Fowl couple a curt nod. Holly sighed: Julius could be so rigid at formal meetings…

Angeline forced a cold smile on her face as she returned the nod, then her eyes quickly switched to the boy standing half-hidden behind the 'bearded person who looked like as though he'd swallowed a sword'. "Patrick?" she said, her voice unusually gentle.

"Madam," the boy replied stiffly.

Artemis and Holly exchanged a nervous glance, and for what seemed an eternity, silence was so heavy and thick inside the room that it felt almost tangible.

Then…

"It's granny, dear." Angeline smiled, and before poor Patrick could have done anything, she rushed forward and gathered him into her arms.

Artemis let out the breath he had been holding and saw an equally relieved expression on his fiancée's face. This was definitely not the 'forced affection' that his mother had shown towards Holly - it was real.

If Angeline's ecstatic hug hadn't been enough for Patrick, now even his grandfather joined in the embrace. The boy was sending his parents pleading looks over his grandparents' shoulders, but neither Artemis nor Holly seemed willing to free him.

* * *

Minutes later Patrick was sitting on the sofa with one grandparent on each side, his head swimming with all the questions they were asking him:

_"Did you really invent that thing that turned your mother into a human?"_

"You finished university at the age of twelve? Atta boy, Patrick!"

"Does that Foaly really have four legs and hooves?"

"Was being kidnapped really that horrible? Oh, my poor dear, you've gone through so much at such a young age!"

"Has anyone told you that you look just like our Artemis? Save the hair colour?"

"Are you happy about your parents getting married?"

"Certainly I am, madam… um, granny," Patrick rectified himself, sending Artemis and Holly a smile. "They are perfect for each other… A wonderful couple, don't you think, granny?"

"Oh, yes, yes dear, of course," Angeline replied, and caught herself thinking that at the moment she _almost_ found the idea of her son marrying this fairy wonderful. She had had doubts about meeting her grandson, but now that Patrick was here, her doubts had evaporated. The little boy was so much like her beloved Arty - just as pale-faced, serious and clever… Well, _more clever_, she reminded herself, her heart aching for her son. She had completely forgotten about Artemis's lost genius since Patrick had arrived, and now she felt almost angry with herself.

"And do tell, is fairy policing a dangerous business?" Artemis the First turned to the so far ignored Commander Root.

"Well, of course it's dangerous, but if it wasn't, then it would lose its charm and thrill, wouldn't it?" The elderly fairy squinted at Holly.

"Most definitely it would, Julius," she agreed.

"But," Root continued, "there are barely any casualties, after all, we have our wonderful healing abilities…"

"Healing abilities?" Angeline asked.

"One kind of magic. It heals illnesses, seals wounds and things like that," Holly said. "Another kind of magic we use is the _mesmer_, for example." Seeing the Fowl couple's confused expressions, she explained: "Hypnosis. I must admit I'm not too fond of _mesmer_ising people… it's not exactly fair, but on a few occasions it's inevitable. I'm still much better at healing."

"And you particularly liked healing _me_," Artemis grinned at her.

"I did not _like_ it." She fluttered her eyelashes at him innocently. "It was just necessary, as you got yourself stung by mosquitoes, hit by arrows, buried under a pile of stones… you're simply clumsy, dear." Seeing his fiancée's sour face, she added: "Just try not to get yourself beaten up in the near future, because I won't be able to heal you."

"No?" Artemis raised an eyebrow at her.

"No. Apparently you don't know _everything_ about us fairies," Holly replied. "When a female fairy is pregnant, she has to refrain from using magic from the second month to the sixth month of her pregnancy."

"Why?"

Before Holly could have carried on, Patrick cut in: "Because this period is most critical in the baby's development. Using magic can interfere with its natural process. It's proven by warlock medics that it's dangerous; it can cause both miscarriage and foetus-development disorders. Actually the only type of magic acceptable in this period is the self-healing magic, because that's something that the mother-to-be can't just switch off. But she can't heal others, can't use the _mesmer_, etc, etc. I mean, of course she _could_, but then she would risk her and especially the baby's health."

"Thank you for the lecture," said Holly with a wry smile.

"You're welcome, Mum," replied the boy with a smug expression. That was when the doorbell buzzed again. "Are we expecting someone?"

"Oh yes, my friend." Artemis the First stood up, downing the remainder of his whisky. "I'll go, get the door."

* * *

Julius Root cleared his throat. "It is normally the girl's father who proposes a toast first, but our dear Holly lost her father long ago. I daresay she's been like a daughter to me for the past few years and I hope she regards me as some father-figure, so… let me propose the first toast." He lifted his glass full of soda water. He, Patrick and Holly were given non-alcoholic drinks (Holly claimed that she didn't want to risk the baby's health, Patrick refused champagne saying he was still a child and Root told the older Fowls that his doctor had seriously forbidden him to drink alcohol). "Here's to the young couple - may they have a magical life and many wonderful children together. May Holly punch Artemis less frequently and may Artemis manage to put up with Holly's temper."

"Hear, hear." Artemis the First said cheerfully, emptying his glass of champagne and quickly refilling it with whisky.

Butler was next. "Well… I'm not exactly an orator… but I fully agree with everything that Mr. Root said. I only prepared with a little verse, knowing what sort of engagement ring Artemis was going to give Holly…" He cast a meaningful glance at the golden ring on Holly's hand - the emeralds set into it formed a shamrock. "For each petal on the shamrock this brings a wish your way, good health, good luck and happiness for today and every day," he recited in a nervous voice.

"That was lovely, Butler, thank you." Holly sent the manservant a warm smile, sensing the need to make him feel less embarrassed. Butler was a hit man, a bodyguard, a warrior of some sort, and giving speeches was definitely not his cup of tea.

"And now," the lady of Fowl Manor spoke up, "Timmy and I would like to say some words, right Timmy?"

"'Course, Angeline, dear," Artemis the First replied, reaching for the bottle of whisky again. His wife seemed not to notice that he was refilling his glass for the second time already.

"Well," Mrs Fowl said, "I have to admit that I wasn't always sure I liked the idea of you two getting married… But if two people love each other this much, and especially if God has decided to give them the most precious gift - a child, then these two people belong together. The only thing that concerns me is that I've heard you two arguing too much…"

Artemis glanced at Holly whose eyes glinted impishly. He knew that his mother was concerned about many more things besides their constant arguing, but he decided not to mention it, knowing that it would only ruin the moment. His eyes shifted to his father (who was downing the third glass of whisky), then settled on his mother again.

"Timmy and I thought we should give you something to sort out your little disagreements," Angeline continued. "You may not know this Holly, but according to Irish tradition, the newly engaged couple are to be presented with a bell. This bell was to be used if argument broke out between the young lovers. As soon as the bell was rung, the dispute would be settled immediately. That is why we're giving you the symbol of this lovely tradition, a Belfast Bell." With that she opened a cabinet nearby and took out a velvet cushion with a gorgeous crystal bell on it.

"Nice stuff," Patrick muttered to Juliet. "Knowing them, I bet they will be ringing it all the time."

The Butler girl stifled a chuckle.

"Indeed, veeery funny!" Artemis the First pointed at her, his eyes slightly crossed, not having the slightest idea what she was chuckling about.

"But… but Timmy?" Angeline gasped with a scandalised look on her face.

"Don't Timmy me, Angie…" her husband waved merrily. "And now… let… let me say a few words!" He lifted his glass that was full of whisky for the fourth time that afternoon. "Here's to my son Arty and his charmin' girl Hol…hic…ly. I 'ope they'll be happy as lon' as they live. Not that their eng… engagemen' happened like it should've… you know, proposals are diff'rent these days… The boy doesn't say 'will you marry me?', he says 'you're gonna have a _what_?'" He giggled, spilling half the whisky in his glass.

"Artemis, you're drunk!" His wife snapped at him. There had been very few occasions when she'd called him by his given name and not his nickname that she was so fond of.

"Let me settle this, Mrs Fowl," Cesare Cavalieri offered. "I know how to treat him, he went and got himself drunk at least a dozen times while we were at Cambridge… Come, pal." He took the owner of Fowl Manor by the arm and guided him towards the terrace.

"I don't need… I'm not drunk!" his friend protested.

"Oh yes, you are," replied Cesare in a fatherly voice. "Come on, old boy, let's breathe a bit of fresh air, that will help you become sober again…"

As the two old friends disappeared into the garden, Artemis heaved a huge sigh. "I'm sorry, Holly."

"What for?" she asked. "It wasn't your fault that your dad drank a bit more than he should have."

"It is my fault, at least partly. I should have paid attention to how much he was drinking. You know, I remember him being drunk when I was a little boy… it happened only once, but… I could never forget it, it sort of… shocked me. He wasn't behaving dangerously or anything, just in a very silly and embarrassing way… I thought if anyone found out my father could be like that, I'd never live it down…"

"The Fowl pride, eh?" Holly smiled sadly. This was really not how she had imagined her engagement day. First that stupid argument between her and Artemis, now this… She seriously hoped that their wedding would turn out better.

"I bet your views of the Mud People have only become worse after this incident, right, Commander?" Artemis told Root with a bitter expression.

"Well, not _that_ much." The elderly fairy shrugged. "I must admit even I got drunk on a few occasions when I was young… That Gnome Gin is dangerous… delicious but dangerous."

* * *

"'Onestly, I don't understand why this is nec'sary," Artemis the First complained as his friend led him to a bench in the garden. "I'm tot'ly all righ'!"

"Yes, yes, of course you are." Cesare patted him on the back. "But you can't go back until you've sobered a bit, old boy."

"Can' go back, eh?" the Fowl patriarch snorted. "I wanna go back! I can' be closed out of the paaarty… hic! A…Arty and his little fairy girl are partying without meeee!" He stamped his foot angrily.

"Fairy girl?" Cesare asked with an amused smile. His friend was so drunk he no longer knew what he was talking about…

"Yeah, fairy!" Mr. Fowl nodded seriously - as seriously as anyone with crossed eyes and a major dizziness could. "Arty doesn' know what he's doin', that's for sure! This Holly's a fairy all righ' and surely mesm…mesm… hypnotized him to marry her, yeah."

"But fairies don't exist, do they?" his friend pressed.

"'Course they doooo." Artemis the First replied, staggering a bit and dropping himself on the bench to stop the world spinning. "She's one too, can do magic and stuff… but not now. Pr…pre…pregnant fairies can't do magic. Nope, they caaaan't. Hehe… she can't magic my little Aaaarty now… hic…"

Cesare could barely catch him before he passed out. "Tim, are you all right?" He patted his friend's cheeks, but Artemis's only reply was a loud snore.

A devilish smile spread on the archaeologist's face. _Fairies, eh?_

* * *

**A/N:** next chapter: the wedding, and things will finally get interesting. Now: review, please! 


	5. Those Whom God Hath Joined Together

**A/N:** the text of the wedding ceremony is an Anglican one, because I couldn't get the Catholic version. But I don't think that the Catholic one could be too different… I left out some parts to make it shorter and added some parts myself, you'll know which parts I added.

_The Flying Moose:_ yes, I've red the Opal Deception and I think it's by far the worst AF book. My fav will always be The Eternity Code.

_Mistri, Tonks' Admirer:_ no, Angeline won't disappear for good. Fairies mustn't consume alcohol in the presence of humans or they will be disowned by fairy society.

_Rebel Rose:_ in the epilogue.

_kellylien:_ I doubt I would ever draw the pic Arty drew - I'm not for drawing naked women. Naked men… perhaps ;) And no, I am definitely not a professional writer. Wish I could be… perhaps some day, if I'm lucky.

_avovisto:_ Cesare is an Italian, and as far as I know, in Italian his name should be pronounced as 'Ches-are-eh'.

_C-chan1:_ I hope you will never be able to predict the whole plot of any fic of mine :)

_Queen Dragon:_ no, Attila and Fiona's friendship isn't much like A/H, because Attila and Fiona never fall for each other (at least Attila never falls for Fiona).

_septempopuli:_ yup, I knew what 'in vino veritas means' - that's one of the few things I've known in Latin.

_chocolate smudge:_ I know that it's difficult to remember things that you read weeks ago, but you can't complain - some authors don't update for months (and of course I too forget what their fics were about…) And yes, there will be weekly updates, because I want my mum to read every chapter once more before I post them and she's quite busy, she can't read more than one chapter a week.

_BeatlesLover4:_ it is mentioned in one - or more than one? - of the AF books that Artemis likes making fakes of famous paintings. I think if he's talented at painting, he must be talented at drawing as well.

_Inken:_ Patrick is twelve, not eleven :) And he's a very strange boy, indeed. I too disagree with Artemis about the baby not needing a bodyguard… I wrote that into the fic as some kind of foreshadowing.

_The OddBird:_ did you watch the Sissi series with Romy Schneider or do you refer to something else?

_SPG:_ once a week.

_Lady Emerald Black:_ all grandmas love their grandchildren but some can't endure their daughter-in-laws. The same works for Angeline. Opal will only appear for two or three shorts scenes, but Mulch will be around a lot. And no, the baby won't be called Artemis. Re-read the last few lines of the Aztec Incident, and you'll see why :)

_Zodokai:_ yes, Cesare knows Timmy too well, and also he knows about the existence of fairies from Ferro's journal (in prologue). He just didn't know how he could get hold of a fairy. Now, however… ;)

_Chixawitch:_ clever girl!

Also thanks to: _El Diablo Ella Misma, hogwartscharmed1, Trouble Kelp, aperfectattitude, frenchpiment, Fleury, Adaia Swordmaiden, Holly Rox, Lumos2000, AmethystPhoenix1, iccy, Fudge1, refloc, VampyGenieWitch, Mousewolf, CheshireHare, cokkii, mouse_

* * *

**

Chapter 5

**

Those Whom God Hath Joined Together…

_One month later_

"Nervous?" Butler asked Artemis. The young man was standing in front of a full-length mirror in Butler's suite, as he had placed his own room at Holly's disposal for dressing.

"Just a bit," he replied, straightening the pale yellow rose on his tuxedo. "How do I look?"

"You look like a _very_ nervous groom," the manservant replied with a grin.

"If I look nervous, then why was it necessary to ask whether I was nervous?" Artemis grunted.

"Just to calm you." Butler patted his one-time charge on the shoulder.

"Now that really managed to calm me," the groom said sarcastically.

"Oh, come on, Artemis, relax, you're just getting married, not fighting a horde of bull trolls…"

"Somehow I'd rather be fighting a few trolls right now," young Fowl muttered.

"You don't mean you've chickened out?" His one-time bodyguard raised an eyebrow at him.

"Noooo, why would I have?" Artemis said, picking invisible pieces of dirt off his tuxedo to hide his nervousness.

"Come, let's sit down." Butler benignly guided the young man to the sofa. "And now, take a few deep breaths and try to calm down. Stop the trembling too."

"I'm _not_ trembling."

Butler gave him an amused look but decided not to argue. "Just answer me something, Artemis. Do you love Holly?"

"More than anything or anyone."

"See? Then there's no reason to be nervous. She loves you too, and today should be the happiest day of your lives: today you are going to swear eternal faith and love to each other… isn't that wonderful?"

Artemis made a grimace. "Doesn't that sound mushy to you?"

"Well, you've got to get used to the thought of doing and listening to mushy things today - all day. There will be all kinds of sappy toasts and flower petals and a chorus singing Ave Maria…"

"Ave Maria?" Artemis blinked. "Won't Holly walk down the aisle - I mean, the garden path - during the bridal march?"

"No. Your mother insisted that a nice church song would be the best. How did she put it?" Butler scratched his head, trying to remember, "I think she said that Ave Maria would probably manage to give the guests the illusion that Holly is still… um… pure."

Artemis couldn't help rolling his eyes. His mother and her strict Catholicism…

"How many guests are to be expected?" he asked. "I never got around to looking at the invitation list."

"As far as I know, Mrs Fowl made a list of two hundred and forty-five people…"

"Two hundred? And forty-five?" Artemis gasped. "She's gone mad! This isn't Prince William's wedding, for heaven's sake!"

"Well," the manservant shrugged, "you know her… She wanted a fancy, elegant wedding to…"

"…show-off," Artemis finished the sentence, hiding his face into his palms. He had expected about thirty-forty guests at most… "Will there be enough seats and meal for everyone?"

"Of course there will be. Your mother and Juliet arranged everything just fine. Nothing will go amiss, believe me."

"I wish I had your optimism, Butler," the groom sighed. "And if we want to avoid the engagement-fiasco, make sure my father doesn't get any alcohol."

"Don't worry, I will keep an eye on him. And now, up you go, you've got to get married in ten minutes!"

"Ten?" Artemis jumped up from the sofa, staggering a few steps ahead. All of a sudden, he felt horribly dizzy.

As Artemis stumbled out the door, he almost ran into Patrick, who had been heading for Butler's room to see how things were going. Before he had left Haven, Patrick had applied the MMM and now looked like a completely normal human boy.

"You look unusually pale, Da… Artemis," the boy said. Although there was no one else around, he still had to be careful when addressing his father: besides the Fowls and the Butlers no one was supposed to find out the blood relation between him and the groom.

"Thank you," Artemis replied sharply. "First Butler says I look nervous, and now even you had to mention it. By the way, what's that velvet cushion you're carrying around?"

"I'm the ring-bearer." The boy drew himself up, straightening his bow-tie. "Certainly the rings are still in my breast pocket…"

"Ring-bearer, eh?" Artemis sent his son a lopsided grin. "Just take good care of them, will you, Frodo?"

Patrick saluted. "Aye-aye, oh mighty Gandalf!"

* * *

As Artemis stepped out of the building, he involuntarily let out a gasp. Could this be two hundred and forty-five people? It looked more like a thousand… Men and women, old and young, parading in Armani suits and colourful silk dresses; and all of them were staring at him. With anticipation. Curiosity. And most of all: disbelief. Disbelief, at seeing the coldest, infamous-for-his-impassivity bachelor getting married.

Most of the guests were people Artemis had never even met - they must have been his mother's school friends and his father's business associates, but there was a distinct bunch of people who looked horribly familiar to him.

"Butler," he leaned closer to his old friend, "am I imagining things, or is the whole of St. Bartleby's here? Principal Guiney, Dr Po and all of my idiotic classmates?"

"Er, Artemis… I believe it was your mother's idea…" the manservant whispered back.

"She could have asked my opinion first," the groom grunted, then forced a faint smile on his face and continued walking down the garden path, to the makeshift altar where Father Brian, a second cousin of Artemis the First, was waiting for him with a sickeningly benign expression. Artemis felt an uneasy feeling in his stomach and an invisible hand compressing his gullet. For a second a thought like 'what am I doing here?' flashed across his mind, but he quickly reminded himself that such bothering thoughts would manifest themselves on his face, and he wouldn't give the St. Bartleby people the pleasure of seeing him insecure. He didn't feel like seeing Dr Po publish a book on how a genius had been shattered by the trauma of his own wedding… Perhaps _he_ would some day write an article on 'wedding nerves' as F. Roy Dean Schlippe… Well, perhaps not. He wasn't sure he would ever publish anything again.

_Keep smiling_, he recited to himself, forcing his facial muscles to tuck into some sort of a grin. A smug grin, preferably. The smugger he seemed, the better. After all, why _shouldn't_ he look smug? Why shouldn't he be proud and self-conscious?

He looked handsome and elegant; the pompous decorations of Fowl Manor were the epitome of wealth; and he was marrying the most wonderful girl on earth. These people around had every right to be green with envy. Yes, Artemis decided, he was enviable. But would these people still envy him if they knew he was no longer the genius they believed him to be? Wouldn't his classmates start laughing maliciously, pointing at that 'little freak who had always pretended to know everything better than the teachers'? Wouldn't Dr Po want to interview him on the feelings his loss of genius had awoken in him?

Artemis was no longer smiling - he had completely forgotten about wanting to look smug and enviable… Some people around started to whisper, making funny glances at the 'happy' groom, but he didn't notice. Someone, far behind, started to sing, but the music didn't reach his ears.

"Artemis!" Butler nudged him, and the young man was rudely tossed back into reality.

"Huh?" He blinked, looking confusedly around, until his eyes fell on something whitish at the other end of the path. "H…Holly…" he muttered, oblivious to the fact that with his bulging eyes and open mouth he looked as undignified as possible. But, even if he _had_ known how comical he looked, he couldn't have cared less - he was mesmerised. Not by fairy magic, but by a fairy-turned-human girl walking down the 'aisle' towards him.

Undoubtedly, she was the loveliest image he had ever had the good fortune of beholding. She wore a cream-coloured muslin dress that had a slightly ancient air to it, as though Holly had just stepped out of a nineteenth century photograph: rose-patterned, snow-white lace covered the hoop-skirt, but the long-sleeved, low-cut top part of the dress was fairly plain with only a few dozen pearls sewn onto it. Instead of a tiara she wore a wreath of gardenias (that were a sharp contrast to her auburn locks), and a veil so long that it would have easily cleaned the garden path, had Juliet the maid of honour (dressed in pink) not been holding its end and carrying it after Holly. As the sunrays fell on the veil, it seemed to be sparkling, as though it had been woven of diamonds. Artemis didn't know what sort of material it had been made of, but it made Holly look like a _fairy_. Like a fairytale-fairy, to be exact… Her whole being seemed to be emanating magic… One could have easily expected her to be carrying a wand, but instead of a wand she was carrying a bouquet of gardenias and pale yellow roses.

As she approached the altar, Artemis caught himself listening to the music that he hadn't even noticed had started. Ave Maria all of sudden didn't seem corny or prudish to him - rather he found it solemn and uplifting. His mother had indeed had good taste when choosing this particular song instead of the bridal march.

Before Holly reached him, he cast a quick glance around to see the guests' reaction to his fiancée, and he was more than satisfied to see the young men's eyes bulging, the younger women pale with envy and the older people watch with their mouths agape. There was no way they could have seen a bride more radiant. The smug smile was back on Artemis's face: everyone present envied him. And, judging by the flashes of some cameras, his father must have invited a few journalists too, and that meant that by this time tomorrow, the whole of Ireland would envy him. That was a very satisfying feeling.

As Holly stepped up to him and sent him a heart-melting smile, he felt his knees buckle. Close up she looked even more beautiful. She wore a light make-up that enhanced the hazel colour of her eyes that sparkled just like her diamond earrings. Apparently Angeline had lent Holly her favourite earrings - Artemis found this a particularly friendly gesture from his mother.

"Dearly beloved," Father Brian began, "we have gathered here on this wonderful summer day in the sight of God to unite this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honourable estate, instituted of God, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church; which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence, and first miracle that we wrought, in Cana of Galilee; and is commended of Saint Paul to be honourable among all men: and there is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men's carnal lusts and appetites; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which matrimony was ordained. First, it was ordained for the procreation of children…" At this Artemis squinted at Holly and she could barely hide a grin, but Father Brian seemed not to notice - after all, he had no idea that the young couple were expecting a child already.

"…to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy Name," the priest continued. "Secondly, it was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication…" For some reason Artemis's face turned slightly pinker than it used to be, "that such persons as have not the gift of continency might marry, and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ's body. Thirdly, it was ordained for the mutual society, help and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into which holy estate these two persons present come to be joined. Therefore if any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace."

"Wait! Stop! Hey! Artemis!" Someone shouted from the crowd.

Artemis and Holly turned around, shocked. Who dared disrupt their sacred moment?

There was a bit of a commotion, and finally a guard (hired by Artemis's parents, as they didn't want Butler to do guarding duties and miss the wedding) came forward, holding a little man by the scruff of his elegant black suit.

"Sir, I've just caught this… er… man," the guard said, flinging the unfortunate fellow as though he were as light as a bag of chips. "He didn't have an invitation!"

"Why, hello, Mulch." Artemis said with crossed arms.

"Diggums!" Root hissed from the foremost row of seats.

"Hi, Mulch!" Patrick waved at the newcomer.

Angeline and her husband exchanged worried glances. What if this appeared in the newspapers? Oh, the horror!

"You know him, Sir?" asked the guard from Artemis.

"Yes, I do know him. A friend I forgot to invite," the groom replied. The guests began whispering among each other: how could Artemis Fowl have friends like _this_? "Was it you who disrupted the process of the wedding by shouting, Mulch?"

"Yeah, it was me." The dwarf shrugged with an innocent expression as the guard dropped him on the stone path. "You know you could have invited me, I should be feeling hurt…"

"Shall I chuck him out?" offered the guard.

"Let him stay," Artemis said with an indulgent smile. "Shall we continue, Father?" He turned back to the priest.

"Unless the um… _guest_ wishes to say something why you and your bride should not be united in marriage…" the priest replied, ogling Mulch with an insecure expression. He had married over three hundred couples in his life, but it had never yet happened that someone disrupted the wedding, especially right after he had asked the Banns.

"Oh, noooo, feel free to continue it, old chum," Mulch told the priest with a toothy grin. "Hi there, Stinker, you look good," he greeted Juliet.

"Hi, Smelly," the maid of honour replied, her eyes twinkling in a way that suggested: she found the whole situation highly amusing.

"Budge up, Julius, I want to sit down too." The dwarf slipped into the first row of seats. For some mysterious reason, Root's face was turning a nasty shade of puce.

"Well, then, let us continue, shall we?" Father Brian said. "So… Hem… Answer me, Artemis, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

Artemis sent Holly a loving glance. "I will."

"And you, Holly, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

Holly raised an eyebrow at Artemis with an impish expression that suggested: '_Obey you and serve you, Fowl? You wish…'_ But aloud she simply said: "I will."

"Who gives this woman to be married to this man?"

Root held up a hand. "I do."

"You, Julius? Since when have you been Holly's father?" Mulch asked, but seeing the Commander's eyes flash furiously at him, he decided to leave it at that.

"I wonder how Mulch found out about the wedding," Holly whispered to Artemis as he took her right hand into his right one.

"I'll ask him later," he whispered back, then continued in a louder voice: "Dearest Holly. I'm not a man of smooth talk, you know that as well as everyone here does." There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd that, Artemis suspected, must have come from his old schoolmates. If no one else, then _they_ must have known him for being able to communicate in one way only: talking down to them. "The point is that even if I wanted to sing praises of you, I would fail miserably. But one thing I can tell for sure: you've changed my life. Before you came along, I was possibly the coldest person on the face of earth, but your presence warmed me. Before I knew you, I didn't care for anyone or anything but my own well-being and money-making. You broadened my horizons and made me realise that the world is more than we know… and that it doesn't revolve around me. Now I could no longer imagine being the old Artemis - being that person who had been locked up inside his own head, closing out all the beauty life can offer. You've changed me for good, and I'm more than grateful for that. I love you for that. I love you for being yourself: a girl who's open-minded enough to tolerate even my most annoying quirks, and who's open-hearted enough to love all creatures, regardless of their looks or traits or beliefs. I've been seeking treasure all of my life, and in you, I have found the greatest treasure. And now that I've found it, I do not intend to part with it, ever. Therefore I, Artemis Fowl the Second, take thee, Holly Short, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance, and thereto I plight thee my troth."

By the time Artemis had finished his vows, tears were glinting in Holly's eyes. Her voice was quivering with emotions when she started to speak.

"Artemis… I might have changed your life, but you have changed mine just as much…" She blinked back a tear, and slightly sniffing, she carried on. "At first I thought you'd changed my life to the worse, but as I got to know you more, I came to realise that it was a change for the better. For years I tried to deny that I had grown fond of you the day I met you; I tried to deny that I saw more in you than the self-centred nerd, but truth was that I did. As I've told you once before, under all those layers of deviousness, there has always been a spark of decency, and that spark has recently grown enough to melt those layers and let your true self surface. And your true self was the one that I fell in love with - not the indifferent plotter, but the warm-hearted, generous and courageous man who has long been hiding inside you, waiting to come out. I'm proud to have helped this man show himself to the rest of the world, and I will do everything in my power to help him continue walking down this path. Therefore, I, Holly Short, take thee, Artemis Fowl the Second, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance, and thereto I plight thee my troth."

"Give me a hanky, Julius," Mulch sniffed, and Root, without a single word, handed him one, drying his own eyes with another tissue.

Artemis the First glanced at his wife to see her face soaked with tears - she didn't look a bit like someone who disapproved of her son's choice of wife. Not in the least. After vows like this, could she hold a grudge against Holly any longer? At that moment she felt she could not. Fairy or not, bewitcher or not, Holly loved her son. And Artemis, her little Arty, loved this girl with all his heart, a mother could see that. Wiping her teary face with a lacy handkerchief, Angeline focused her attention on her grandson, who stepped to the altar with the pillow that bore the rings. Patrick looked very handsome and elegant in his tuxedo - he had never resembled Artemis so much before, Angeline thought fondly. Hopefully the guests wouldn't notice the uncanny resemblance…

Juliet was close to tears too, but managed to fight them back. Butler, next to her, was smiling as his one-time charge placed the wedding ring on Holly's finger. Artemis's hand was quite visibly shaking as he did so. Holly's hand was trembling so much that the ring she wanted to give Artemis slipped out of her fingers - but thanks to her LEP-honed reflexes, she managed to catch it and quickly placed it on Artemis's ring finger.

"Hereby, with the power bestowed upon me by God, I pronounce you husband and wife," Father Brian concluded. "Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder. You may kiss the bride."

* * *

The wedding feast was in full swing, all kinds of expensive and exotic meals covering the two hundred and forty-six porcelain plates (Artemis had ordered an extra plate for Mulch, who, despite being uninvited, was now sitting at the head table with the newlyweds). The tables were arranged in an 'E' form, under glorious garlands of white roses. Anyone could have guessed that the Fowls had spent at least a hundred thousand Euros on the decorations alone. Artemis wasn't particularly keen on the flower garlands and the silver cutlery, but if showing off made his mother happy, then it was fine by him.

Butler stood up and clinked a spoon against his glass. The guests fell silent and all eyes focused on the head table.

"Well," the manservant cleared his throat, "as the best man it's my task to propose the first toast. As many of you already know, I'm not an orator myself, but if Artemis trusted me to be his best man, then I will try to live up to his expectations: I'm going to be short." He winked at the young couple. "Holly, Artemis, may you live each day like your last, and live each night like your first. Here's to the bride and the groom."

"Every night like our first?" Holly whispered to Artemis. "I hope not…"

"Why, what didn't you like about it?" He gave her a slightly hurt expression.

"My healing," she sniggered. "Wasn't your fault, but it ended in a comedy."

"At least _we_ have hilarious memories of our first time - not every couple say the same about theirs," Artemis commented as Root rose to his feet.

"I, as the semi-father of the bride, would like to wish you two the best of luck, and many, many happy years spent together."

"Many years, eh? Yeah, as long as Holly's playing Mrs Fowl, you get to be Commander," Mulch muttered, but Root pretended not to have heard the dwarf's comment.

"I might not be the one who had supported this relationship from the beginning," Root carried on in a solemn voice, "and I even admit to have held Miss Butler's theory on this 'Artemis/Holly romance' as nonsense, but after a while not even I could be blind enough not to notice that these two people were made for each other. You, Holly, and you, Artemis, are as different as night and day, and it is often said that two such different persons could not live together without killing each other any time soon, but you have so far proved the opposite, and I wish you eternal patience and tolerance to be able to continue proving it. Here's to the bride and groom."

Glasses were emptied again, and the fairies - like always - were drinking non-alcoholic drinks. To the groom's relief, his father - who was the next to stand up - had decided to completely forsake alcohol for this day.

"Well," Fowl Senior began, "There isn't much to be said that Butler and Mr. Root haven't mentioned, so let me wish the young couple good luck with a traditional little verse. Artemis, Holly, may you have all the happiness and luck that life can hold, and at the end of all your rainbows, may you find a pot of gold."

"Gold? Where?" Mulch looked up from his plate with a greedy expression.

"Nowhere, convict," Root whispered to him with a furious look.

"Oh…" The dwarf's face fell. "Well, then…" He scrambled to his feet, but as he was too small to be visible, he decided to climb on his chair. The guests gave that 'scandalising person' dubious glances. Mulch, however, paid no heed to them. "Artemis and Holly," he began in his raspy voice, "you have forgotten to invite me to your wedding, but old Mulch isn't the type to keep a grudge. We are friends after all, aren't we? So, I wish you all the nice things that the others before me have, and may all your ups and downs come only in the bedroom. Cheers!"

"Why, thank you, Mulch," Holly said sharply as the dwarf settled down into his chair near hers.

"You're welcome, sweetie. I always thought you and Arty were a fab couple…"

"Do tell us, Mulch," Artemis leaned closer so that no one but Holly and the one-time convict would hear him, "how did you find out about our wedding? I doubt Root or Patrick have told you…"

"Nah." Diggums waved cheerfully. "My precious Opal was hacking into Foaly's mailing system the other day and intercepted an e-mail that little Pat sent Foaly about the wedding. Truth be told till yesterday I hadn't even known you'd moved to live with Artemis, Holly… I, like everyone in Haven, thought you were taking care of your sick aunt in Atlantis… Tsk-tsk… who would have thought? Saint Miss Short isn't as saintly as one would think…"

"Thank you for the assessment, Mulch," the bride glowered at him. "And just to remind you, I'm not Miss Short anymore. I'm Mrs. Fowl."

"'Course, dear." Mulch shrugged. "Ah, Artemis… I would highly appreciate it if you didn't mention Opal's hacker activities to old Julius…"

"Certainly not," Artemis replied with the smile of a true accomplice, sending a side-ways glance at Root who was thankfully too deep in conversation with Patrick to overhear them. "So, you and Opal are still hitting it off well?"

"Oh, wonderfully, Arty, wonderfully. She's a fiery little wench."

"And how come she hasn't decided to come with you here?"

"First: she isn't allowed to leave Haven, you know, it was part of the verdict. Second: she's too busy," Mulch replied with a shrug. "Working on some gadget that, according to her, will put Foaly to shame. You know it's her greatest obsession: to outdo the centaur."

"Shhh!" Holly pressed her index finger on her lips and pointed at an old man who had stood up at one of the lower tables.

"Dr. Po? This should be interesting," Artemis muttered to his wife.

"Why, who's this?" she whispered back.

"My one-time psycho-analytic… or he thought he was. But in fact it was me who analysed him, not vice versa."

Dr. Po cleared his throat. "Well, Artemis - I hope you don't mind me still calling you Artemis - I must say I'm pleasantly surprised. After our little conversations at St. Bartleby's, I never thought that the day would come when I'll have a chance to toast you. I'm sure I'm not hurting your feelings if I claim that you were the most anti-social little boy I had ever had the misfortune of meeting, and you nearly managed to make me run screaming from the school like you did with my predecessors. If someone at that time had told me that some day I would attend your wedding - and that you would be marrying out of love and not for money, I would have sent them to the nearest lunatic asylum." There were chuckles among the guests, especially in the 'St. Bartleby's section'. "I drink to you, Artemis, for having proved that anyone can change, even the most hopeless causes. And if this change was indeed brought about by your lovely wife, then I can only congratulate her. You alone have managed what a dozen school counsellors did not, Mrs Fowl, and I truly respect you for that. I wish you two all the happiness in the world."

"Thank you, Dr. Po." Artemis sent the old psychiatrist a trademark vampire smile.

"Whew, that was one high-flown speech," Mulch commented once everyone had drunk to the new couple for the umpteenth time. "By the way, Arty, where are you two going on a honeymoon?"

The dwarf must have asked his latest question a bit too loud, as everyone turned in the head table's direction, clearly interested in the destination such a rich couple had chosen for their honeymoon.

"_I bet it's a trip around the world, I heard the Fowls had bought a yacht," a female voice murmured._

"Nah, I'm sure it's the Bahamas or Hawaii…"

"Well," Artemis looked around with merrily glinting eyes, "First of all: we haven't bought a yacht and aren't planning to. Second, Holly and I are _not_ going on a honeymoon. At least not this year."

"NOOOO?" people gasped.

"No," Artemis replied. "We decided to stay at home and not risk Holly's health by going on a long trip…" His mother paled, knowing well what he was about to say. With an assertion like that he could ruin the image of purity his mother had worked so hard to create for Holly… But truth was that Artemis didn't care for pretences, and he most definitely did not like hypocrisy. He put an arm around his wife with a glance at Angeline that carried the silent message '_take that, mother_', and said: "Holly and I are going to have a baby in January."

"Hah! Arty, you little tyke!" Mulch whistled. "A baby! Julius, did you know this?"

As expected, everyone started to talk at once, and Angeline quickly fished a sedative pill out of her handbag with a shaking hand.

"Why did you tell them?" Holly asked her husband in a hushed voice.

"Why shouldn't I have told them?" Artemis raised an eyebrow at her in a challenging manner. There was something in his eyes that she had seen only once before: when he had decided to give up his genius - the same resoluteness, the same creepy fire. He almost looked rebellious. "They would have found out sooner or later, anyway," he explained. "People _can_ count. And besides, if my parents wanted the press to be here, then they will have to face the consequences. Even those poor journalists need to have a field day once in a while..."

"Artemis!" She shook her head disapprovingly, but her mouth had tucked into a smile. "It's downright lucky that we have asked Foaly to block all news on our wedding…" she added thoughtfully. They had had no idea that the press would be invited by the older Fowl couple, but Artemis had been sure that some guests would want to take photos and perhaps even put them on the Internet, so he told the centaur in advance to make sure that any photo or article that pertains to their wedding would be unavailable underground. After all, if the rest of the fairies found out, Holly would have no chance of ever returning to them. She would become an outcast.

"Yes, lucky." He nodded absent-mindedly, but his ears perked up as he caught some words coming from the neighbouring table:

"_Honestly, this is the day of surprises for me. I always thought Fowl was either gay or impotent - or both._"

"Then listen here, Malcolm," Artemis turned to the owner of the voice, one of his dumbest schoolmates. "First: it's true that eight years have passed since we graduated from St. Bartleby's… or in _your_ case only five, as you fell through a few times, didn't you? - but even though I'm older now, it doesn't mean my ears aren't still working fine. Second: I can assure you I'm a hundred percent heterosexual, and the only reason why I never showed it in St. Bartleby's is that the only woman there was the seventy-two-year-old, toothless librarian. Third: I'm perfectly capable of fathering children, thank you very much." His eyes met Patrick's, and the boy gave him the silent thumbs-up.

Malcolm's face turned ruby red, and even some of his old classmates around him started to snigger at Artemis's witty riposte. Malcolm undoubtedly deserved that.

* * *

Late in the afternoon the guests were forced into the house by a downpour and the party continued in the entrance hall and the surrounding salons. Couples were dancing, smaller groups were discussing the latest social events, and Artemis was more than happy to have a chance to withdraw into a corner and finally get out of the focus of attention.

He watched amusedly as his father twirled Holly across the dance floor (his mother was dancing with Commander Root). He had no idea where Mulch could be, but as long as the dwarf didn't steal anything from the house, Artemis didn't mind that he wasn't around.

"Nice to see that Grandpa's getting along so well with Mum," Patrick said as he was trying to fish something out of the pocket of his trousers. "So, this is the one I've mentioned to you last time we talked over the videophone." He showed a tiny, flat gadget on his palm.

"Your latest invention?" Artemis took the gadget from his son.

"Uh-huh. Foaly says it could be amazing if I manage to finish it… and of course I _will_ finish it." Young Short gave the groom a very Fowl-like vampire smile.

Artemis forced himself to return the smile, trying to hide the pain he was feeling at the moment - holding a wonderful piece of brand new technology, not much unlike his latest, unfinished invention. What would he give if he could finish it! What would he give for just a few dozen additional IQ points!

"Well," he said, "it looks pretty, but you haven't yet said what this is."

"A transporter." Patrick beamed.

"A what?"

"I assume you've seen at least a few episodes of Star Trek?"

Artemis's eyes widened with surprise. "You don't mean this works like the transporter on the Enterprise?"

"But I do." Patrick drew himself up. "Just of course this one is way better than that. For one, it doesn't need to be connected to a ship or even a computer… you just have to type in the required coordinates, see…" He took the gadget back from Artemis and flipped it open to reveal a micro-keyboard and a tiny screen, "and this little beauty will take you there in an instant. Well, of course only when it's ready. It's almost ready, but I still need to add the finishing touches and run a few tests on it."

"And who will be the tester? I doubt anyone would be bold enough to risk getting… _splinched_?"

Patrick's eyes glinted jovially. "You've finally read Harry Potter, haven't you?"

The groom shrugged. "I have. So what?"

The boy hid a grin. Surely Artemis Fowl the Second would never admit having _liked_ a children's book, would he? "Well, you don't need to worry about the… splinching. It's safe… I think. But I wouldn't mind if you looked through it and told me if you found any flaws…"

His father gave him a sad smile. "Do you really think I _could_ notice any flaws in the work of a genius?"

"I just thought… I should show it to you…" The boy began, but his voice trailed off - he realised he couldn't really tell his father a reason why he thought it was a good idea to ask for the opinion of a _one-time_ genius. The only reason he could have said was '_…because you're my father_', but even inside his head it sounded ridiculous. A Fowl - by name or by blood - wouldn't sink so low as to admit having ignored the laws of logic and letting sentimentalism lead their actions. "Er…" Patrick opened his mouth again, hoping that his wonderful brains would provide him with a reasonable-sounding answer, but he didn't have a chance to continue, because the next instant Artemis jumped up from the sofa.

"Holly!" He breathed and ran across the crowd to his father, who was holding the unconscious bride in his arms.

The dancing and the music stopped, and the guests opened a way for the new husband to carry his pale, motionless wife up the stairs.

* * *

Holly awoke to a strange feeling - she was in a more or less horizontal state, but she seemed to be moving. Or rather, being moved, by someone else. She opened her eyes to see glorious crystal chandeliers swooping above her. Well, they weren't exactly swooping, but she was so dizzy that even at a normal walking-pace, the chandeliers seemed to be moving quickly and swinging sickeningly. She took an effort to lift her head a bit and her gaze fell on the familiar face of her lover. _Husband_, she corrected herself in thought. "A…artemis?" she muttered.

"Oh, you've come round," he replied with a relieved expression.

"Where… where are you carrying me? The party's not over yet, is it?"

"No." He shook his head and stopped before their room. "You've fainted. Do you think you can stand for a second until I punch in the code?"

"Uh, yeah, I think I can." Holly tried her legs and they felt strong enough to support her weight. "I don't even remember having fainted…"

The door swished open and Artemis bent to scoop Holly up again, but she held out a hand. "No need, thanks. I can walk on my own feet. Or…" An impish smile spread on her face, "would you like to carry me over the threshold and… begin our wedding night early?"

He returned her smile, but shook his head. "I would love to, but the guests are still here and it would not be proper to disappear just like that… they would think we can't keep our hormones at bay."

"Why, can we?" She raised an eyebrow at him in a challenging way.

"Holly, don't do this, or I really won't be able to hold back… Now please, go and lay down a bit if you don't want to faint again."

"But I'm feeling all right already." She pouted. "Just a little bit dizzy, really…"

"That's enough. I'm worried about you, okay?" He took her by the arm and gently but determinedly guided her into the room.

"Don't worry, the baby's fine, a little bit of dancing couldn't harm it," she said, dropping herself on the bed. "Also, my magic wouldn't let it be harmed."

"I'm not worried about the baby," he replied. "Or at least… he's not the number one priority for me… it's you. I love you, Holly, and you can't imagine what I felt when I saw you collapse… It was almost as bad as the jaguar incident…"

Holly reached out and gently caressed his cheek. "It's sweet of you that you worry about me, but no need, really. I'm fine. I just need a bit of fresh air, I think."

Artemis stepped to the window and opened it. "Now be a good girl and lay down a bit. I'll be back in half an hour, and if you feel all right by then, you can come and join the others."

"Ooookay, doctor." She grimaced and lay down. "I'm completely ruining my wedding dress this way, you know…"

"Then you can rejoin the guests in something more comfortable. You'd look like a princess even if you were wearing a sack." He bent down and kissed her lightly on the lips. "And now rest, dearest."

"'Kay," she muttered, closing her eyes. "Leave the door open, will you? A little bit of a through draft will help clear my head."

"All right. I'll be back soon."

* * *

As Artemis reached down the stairs, several guests gathered around him.

"How's she doing?" asked his father.

"She's all right, just needs a bit of rest," the groom replied.

"So she's come around?" Juliet enquired. Patrick, lagging behind her, seemed as pale as a sheet. His mother had always been the epitome of strength and healthiness, and seeing her faint shocked him.

"Yes, and she wanted to come back instantly," Artemis lied, "but I told her to rest a bit. In half an hour I'll have a look at her, and if she's feeling well by then, she'll return to us."

"I do hope Mrs. Fowl's sickness isn't serious," added Cesare Cavalieri politely.

"No, thankfully just natural pregnancy symptoms." Artemis replied with a forced smile and mingled with the crowd like a proper host should.

* * *

"Da… I mean, Artemis," Patrick spoke up as he managed to get near the groom who had just managed to 'shake off' Dr. Po.

"Yes?"

"Um… what did that man want from you? You didn't seem too eager to answer him…"

"Apparently he thought that my sudden conversion from the egoistical git was some sort of a miracle and wanted to find out how it happened…" Artemis shrugged. "I suppose he was hoping to publish an article on it or something… but I gave him evasive replies. And I take it this isn't what you wanted to discuss with me, is it?"

"Er… no, Artemis." The little genius shook his head. "I just wanted to tell you that I do care about your opinion. You might not be the same you were months ago, but… you still have loads more of experience in inventing than I do."

His father patted him on the shoulder with a sad smile. "Nice try, Patrick. Well, I'm off to see how your mo… aunt is doing."

"But…" The boy stared after his father's receding figure. _D'Arvit_, he thought. He had been honest to his father, but Artemis didn't believe him… He hadn't said those things out of pity, no, he'd meant it! How could he prove to his father that he respected him despite having lost his genius? Artemis wouldn't believe him, because, it seemed, he was suffering from some kind of inferiority complex.

* * *

Artemis entered his room - that, from today on, was officially his and Holly's room. "Dear?" He looked around, not seeing his wife anywhere. Only her sparkly veil was lying on the bed, but she wasn't there.

Probably she only went to use the toilet, he thought and poked his head into the adjacent bathroom. It was completely Holly-free.

"Holly… where are you?" he asked nervously. Surely his wife wouldn't be playing hide-and-seek with him, would she? But what if that was some kind of a fairy wedding custom he had never heard of? Better ask Root about it, he decided and walked to the door. A gust of wind came across the room through the open window, and that was when he felt the scent. It was a sweet odour, and an unmistakable one. No biochemist would ever fail to recognise it if they had smelled it once before.

"Chloroform," Artemis muttered, all the blood running out of his face. He hurried out of the room, desperately looking left and right, and he was just about to start running down the corridor when his mind stopped him. The smell of chloroform had been weak, and that meant it had been used at least fifteen minutes ago. Too much time had passed to reach the culprit on foot.

With a sudden thought he ran to the window and looked down at the backyard. Although it was almost ten o'clock already, a few garden lamps illuminated the backyard enough for Artemis to see that still at least a hundred cars were parked there. None of the hired guards were around - Artemis suspected they were in the building, keeping an eye on the guests. An elderly lady clad in a peach-coloured dress was just about to get into the back seat of an Alfa Romeo. The chauffeur politely held out a hand to her and helped her into the car. Several parking places were empty, though, signalling that the cars that had been parked there had already left. One must have carried the unconscious Holly Fowl to an unknown place…

Letting out a groan of frustration, Artemis turned back from the window. Why, oh why had he agreed to leave that d'Arvitting door open?

If he alarmed the guards now, what could they do? The chance that his wife was still at Fowl Manor was less than one percent. Should he phone the police? That seemed a more reasonable act, but…

His eyes fell on the veil and from this angle he noticed the tip of an envelope poking out from under it.

He dropped himself on the bed and ripped the envelope open. The message it held seemed to have been written by a female hand.

_Mr Fowl,_

First of all, let me congratulate you on your wedding. Second: forgive me for separating you from your lovely wife on a wonderful day like this. If I had another chance to talk to her about certain… touchy subjects, I would have done it without resorting to such drastic methods as kidnap. Do not worry, you will have her back, as soon as she gives me the information I need. If she's reluctant to speak… well, then her captivity will be somewhat longer and considerably less comfortable. If Mrs Fowl does not wish to cooperate, I will have to get in contact with you again, in the hope of finding a solution to our problem.  
I take I'm right in thinking that at the moment you are contemplating to alarm the police. I suggest you do not, Mr Fowl. You surely don't want to risk the health of your wife and unborn child, do you?  
I suggest you remain as calm as possible and most of all: patient. If your wife is willing to help me, she might rejoin you in less than 24 hours. For the time being, it all depends on her. 

Best wishes again,

Uninvited Guest

* * *

**A/N2:** getting interesting, huh? Poor Arty, he has no bride to spend the wedding night with…

Review, please! 


	6. Let No Man Put Asunder

**Chapter 6**

**...Let No Man Put Asunder**

"Have you been told that you resemble Fowl an awful lot?" an unpleasant voice spoke up behind Patrick.

The boy, who had been absentmindedly gazing at Juliet who happened to be dancing with a bulky man (presumably an admirer of hers from the Limerick Wrestling Club), now turned around to face the same chubby man who had made nasty comments about his father at the wedding table.

"Mr… Malcolm?" he asked politely.

"Davenport, Malcolm Davenport." The man drew himself up in a pompous way. Patrick was forced to think of one Dudley Dursley.

"Whatever." The boy shrugged. "So, what were you asking, sir?"

"I merely said you looked suspiciously lot like Fowl." Malcolm sneered at him.

"Which Fowl?" Young Short raised a red eyebrow at the man. "Artemis the First, Artemis the Second or _Holly_ Fowl? Because if the latter, then it's no wonder I resemble _her_. I'm her nephew, after all."

"I was talking about that self-importa… I mean, the groom. Artemis the Second. You resemble him, boy."

"I doubt that. The only thing I have in common with him is that I absolutely detest having to talk to idiots who think they are clever… sir." Patrick gave Malcolm a meaningful glance. He would have preferred adding a vampire smile, but he fought down the urge – vampire smiles would only make him resemble his father even more.

"Ah, the groom's back!" Someone behind him said aloud.

Patrick turned to see his father descend the stairs. The groom was very noticeably alone.

Young Short used the opportunity to get away from Artemis's one-time classmate and sidled to the stairs. "Where's Mu… my aunt?" he asked quickly.

"Yes, where's the charming bride?" Signor Cavalieri enquired. Several other guests gathered around him to hear the groom's words.

"She isn't feeling up to returning to us," Artemis replied. Patrick couldn't help noticing that his father's voice was trembling and that he was unusually pale.

"But… it's not serious, is it?"

"No." Artemis shook his head with a forced smile. "She's just too dizzy and tired. She asks everyone to forgive her for not coming down, and she wishes everyone a nice time for the rest of the evening."

The guests scattered from the stairway with indulgent smiles, and Artemis made a beeline for the nearest sofa and collapsed on it as though suddenly all his strength had left him.

"Lucky that you've come, because things were getting dangerous," Patrick told him as he sat down next to him.

"What?" Artemis shuddered and looked at the boy. "Sorry, I haven't paid attention."

"Thing were getting dangerous. That Malcolm or whoever told me I looked like you."

"Oh. And what did you tell him?"

"I gave him evasive answers. Why, what should I have told him?"

Artemis was staring at the floor with his chin resting in his palms.

"So?"

"So what?" He looked up, his face confused. "What were you saying?"

"I asked you what I should have told him. That Malcolm person," Patrick replied.

"Oh, him. Nothing. You shouldn't have told him anything. He's been asking stupid questions all his life. Like… how much is two and two…" Artemis gave his son a sour glance. "Don't even listen to him. And now, go, talk with Root or someone else, it's not good if people see us together all the time. They might get even more suspicious about our blood-relation."

"Ah, yeah, you're right." Patrick nodded and stood up. However, he had barely taken two steps towards his uncle when he felt forced to look back. Artemis was again staring at the floor, his eyes unfocused.

The boy returned to the sofa and took a place next to the groom again. Artemis didn't even notice.

"Hey…"

"Huh?" His father glanced at him. "You still here?"

"No. Yes. Well, I left but I returned. And you haven't even noticed it. What's wrong, D… Artemis?"

"Why do you think anything's wrong?"

"You're behaving like a madman, Artemis. I'm not saying this to hurt you, you know I respect you, but… I see something's seriously amiss with you. Or… not with you but with… _Mum_?" He gulped. "You weren't telling the truth about her, were you? She's not feeling all right, is she? Tell me if she's very sick, I might be able to help her…"

"She _isn't_ sick," Artemis enunciated. "Or… she might be. Or the baby. Chloroform can cause miscarriage…"

"What are you talking about?" Patrick whispered, his eyes wide.

"Come with me to someplace where others can't overhear us." Artemis stood up and hurried into the crowd with deliberate steps. The boy had to start running if he didn't want to let his father out of sight.

Minutes later they were out of the crowd, Artemis turned into a narrow corridor and headed for a tapestry that depicted a knight in shining armour. Probably Lord Hugo de Fole, Patrick thought for a second, then let out a gasp as his father lifted the tapestry and opened a hidden door behind it.

Without a word, Patrick followed him into the room. The tapestry fell back into place, and Artemis carefully closed the door behind the boy.

"What - is – this - about, Dad?" Patrick asked sharply.

The young husband turned to his son with an ashen face. "Your mother's been kidnapped."

A quarter of an hour later Patrick returned to the entrance hall, paler than ever. Had anyone had a better look at him, they would have easily recognised the haunted expression in his eyes, but no one paid him any attention.

A few minutes after Patrick, Artemis too rejoined the guests, his expression barely different from that of his son, but – probably due to several years' experience – he managed to force at least a faint version of the trademark Fowl vampire smile onto his face. Acting the perfect host, he mingled with the guests, giving each a few polite words, while Patrick withdrew into a corner and tried to be as unnoticeable as possible.

Hours passed like this, and slowly the crowd started to dwindle.

Four o'clock in the morning found the members of the Fowl and Butler family in the empty entrance hall, examining the 'ruins'. The tables by the walls were packed with dirty plates and cutlery, shards of broken glass littered the marble floor (some clumsy guest must have dropped them), and even a pair of garlands had been torn from the ceiling, now hanging like limp snakes over the baroque railings.

"Well, it's over," Artemis the First spoke up.

"Yes, it is." The groom nodded sombrely.

"What's this dark expression, Artemis?" Butler put a hand on his one-time charge's shoulder. "Surely Holly isn't feeling too sick to skip the wedding night?"

Artemis glanced up on his old friend to see the manservant's eyes glinting in a mischievous way. "The problem is, Butler, that I don't know at all how she's feeling."

"Then what are you waiting for? Go and ask her!" His father gave him a grin. "I bet your charming bride's been missing you all evening, it's not nice to make her wait so long…"

"For the time being, Father, I have no bride, and there will be no wedding night," the groom replied.

"What?" Juliet gasped. "What are you talking about, Arty?"

Artemis drew himself up and forced his features to remain calm. "She's been kidnapped."

"What?" A raspy voice shouted from under one of the tables. The white tablecloth was lifted and the grumpy face of Mulch Diggums appeared. "Kidnapped? Have you been drinking too much, kid?"

"Apparently _you_ have, Mulch," Artemis pointed out. "But I assume you no longer care about the no-alcohol-for-fairies-in-mud-man-company rule, do you?"

The dwarf waved lazily and stood up. "No one will find out. Julius here won't tell anyone, will you, old chum?"

"First, I'm no chum to you," Root growled, "second, don't call me Julius, third: Fowl, what the d'Arvitting hell do you mean by Holly's been kidnapped?"

"When I went to check on her a few hours ago, I found this." Artemis pulled a crumpled sheet of paper out of his pocket and handed it to the commander.

"_Mr Fowl, first of all, let me congratulate_…" Root muttered under his breath as his eyes skimmed the paper.

"Louder!" Juliet demanded. Angeline merely nodded, her face as white as a sheet.

Root's voice rose in pitch so that everyone in the room could hear every word. "…_for the time being, it all depends on her… best wishes again, uninvited guest_."

"I don't understand this. I really don't." The Fowl patriarch shook his head in disbelief. "Why would _anyone_ kidnap Holly? And what touchy subjects do they want to talk to her about?"

Artemis took a deep breath. "I'm not sure, but…"

"…But it's obvious," Patrick interjected.

"Obvious? What?" Butler frowned.

"The kidnapper, whoever they are, must know Mum's a fairy," the boy explained.

"That's what I thought too." His father nodded. "Seriously, I have no idea how they could have found out about it, but they _must_ know… and they must know much more than that. If I were paranoid, I'd say someone has been spying on us somehow. Otherwise they couldn't have known Holly was pregnant. The kidnap seemed to have been organised… planned out. And the guests hadn't known about the baby before this afternoon. But someone has. And this someone must know she's a fairy, and perhaps even the fact that she cannot use magic in her condition, otherwise they wouldn't have tried to kidnap her."

"But… but Arty…" Angeline spoke up in a shaky voice, "isn't it possible that the kidnapper merely wanted to get to _you_ by abducting her? Couldn't _you_ be the real target of their actions?"

Artemis heaved a sigh. "I know you always worry about _me_, Mother, but for once in a lifetime, worry about Holly. I am _not_ the target. What would anyone want from me, especially through my wife? Not the secret code to my Swiss bank account, that's for sure."

"No need to be sarcastic," his mother said sharply, but tears were brimming her eyes at the same time. "I just can't help being a mother who worries about her only child! That's something you can't blame me for! And if you're right, and she was kidnapped for what she really is, then…"

"Then what, Mother?" The young man gave her a challenging look.

"I always told you that girl was dangerous," she replied coldly.

"Dangerous? Oh, yes, exactly! A dangerous girl who only healed you out of your insanity, Mother! A dangerous girl who saved Father from the Russian mafia at the Arctic! Without her, neither of you would be here! Father would be long dead, and you would be drooling in a padded cell, wearing a straight jacket! She's very dangerous indeed! And oh, the horror! She got kidnapped wearing your most expensive pair of diamond earrings! What if they get lost? That would be a terrible loss, wouldn't it, Mother?"

"That's right, Mud boy, don't hold back," Mulch commented with a grin.

Angeline stared at her son, her face rigid with terror. Was this her clever, impassive, ever so calm Arty?

Artemis was panting, his eyes radiating anger, frustration and… shame.

"Sorry." The young man mumbled, hanging his head. "I don't know what's happening to me. This day should have been the most wonderful day of my life, and here I am, yelling at you again…"

Angeline reached out and gently squeezed his arm. "It's all right, dear. What… what did you mean by saying that Holly saved your father and me?"

"I would like to hear about that too," the older Mr Fowl added.

"Holly never wanted to tell you," Artemis whispered, his eyes focused on the motherly hand that was still grabbing his arm. "There were a few things we deliberately left out of our story when we recounted it to you. Some things we found were superfluous to mention, some things we thought would scare you. I wouldn't have minded if we told you about Holly's involvement in saving you both, but she insisted it wasn't important." He glanced up from Angeline's hand to meet her eyes. "She wanted you to like her for who she is, and not for what she has done for you. She never expected gratitude from anyone."

"Oh, Arty… if I had known…" Angeline's voice faltered and her grip on his arm became even stronger.

"See, that's why she didn't want you to know." With that Artemis gently peeled her hand off him and stumbled to the nearest sofa, dropping himself on it. "But once the toothpaste is out of the tube…"

"What's the toothpaste have to do with anything?" Mulch wondered, only to be silenced by a strict glance from Butler.

"For the time being all we can do is wait," Artemis said, "so I might as well tell you the story, Mother."

Holly opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was a bow on the wall of a fairly dark room that most definitely wasn't Artemis's. The bow seemed rather peculiar – it didn't look a thing like the ones she and Artemis had received from the Aztecs. This one looked more sophisticated, and much, much older. _It should be placed in some museum_, she thought.

_A museum? A bow? What am I doing here? And **where** is **here**?_

She sat up on the sofa she had been lying on and looked around. The room itself seemed some sort of a museum, but she knew well that it couldn't be one, as the curators wouldn't have allowed her to rest on an ancient-looking sofa like this. Come to think of it, they wouldn't even have let her touch it, let alone nap on it.

But had it been a _nap_?

Holly rubbed her forehead, trying to chase the annoying headache out of her head. What the hell happened?

She established that she was still wearing her wedding dress, though it was slightly creased now. Her veil had been removed or had fallen off, though. Well, she was better off without it, that stupid veil had been too long and heavy.

Tentatively Holly stood up and was relieved to feel her legs strong enough to support her weight. She walked to the only window of the room and glanced out. In the dim light of dawn, she saw a rather nondescript garden. Or to be more precise, a rather nondescript park. There were grassy mounds as long as the eye could see. _Must be some kind of a manor_, she thought, as she couldn't see other houses or even a road nearby. A manor, far from civilisation, probably somewhere in the Irish countryside. All she could establish for sure was that the window was facing East, as the horizon was a lovely mixture of pink and orange. Apparently only a few seconds were left till sunrise.

Quickly realising that she couldn't figure out anything by staring out the window, Holly turned away from it and marched up to the door to open it… but, as she had sort of expected, it was locked.

This could mean only one thing – one thing that she had subconsciously assumed right after waking up, but had tried to deny it for a few minutes: she was a prisoner in a museum-look-alike.

Racking her brains, she tried to remember how she had got here, but the last thing she could recall was that she had been lying on her and Artemis's bed, facing the window when she heard steps and felt some funny scent… The scent must have been chloroform. She had smelled it on a few occasions when Patrick had been experimenting at their Haven home. Those steps she heard, however, couldn't have been that of her husband.

_Her husband_…

A funny feeling came over her: she was married to Artemis Fowl. True, she had already understood it with her mind, but not with her heart. Not up till now. But here, not even knowing where she was, it finally sank in.

Images flashed across her mind: she, staring at herself in the mirror while Juliet was fixing her gorgeous but extremely annoying veil; Artemis standing at the end of the garden path, wearing a stupid but overly very sweet expression; Artemis saying his vows and she feeling tears welling up in her eyes; Dr. Po raising to toast them; Artemis's father asking her for a dance; Artemis carrying her up the stairs after she's fainted… Then those steps… Those steps echoed through her mind… _Clank… clank…_ Those steps were too loud to belong to Artemis or anyone she knew… It sounded a bit like Lili Frond's stilettos…

_A woman?_ Holly frowned, leaning to the closed door. Could her kidnapper be a female?

Well, even if it _was _a female, she must have had a very funny taste in decorations. The bow Holly had first spotted wasn't the only ancient-looking object in the room. The sun just appeared on the horizon, providing enough light for Holly to properly make out the furnishing. There was something that seemed like an extremely old shield in the corner, and something that reminded her of some ancient jewellery was hanging from a candle-bracket. A tapestry over the sofa depicted a hunting scene… or battle scene, she wasn't sure which one. Men with funny braids were riding horses and seemed to be shooting arrows… backwards.

Whoever owned this place must have had a fascination for the Middle Ages. Or was it the Middle Ages at all? – Holly wondered. It could as easily have been the end of the antiquity. She couldn't tell, as she had never been interested in Mud Man history enough to learn much about it. Patrick, however, would surely be able to tell her which era these objects came from…

A sigh escaped Holly's lips at this thought. Her little son… she had done everything in her power to save him from his kidnapper, and now here she was, kidnapped, just like he had been. But what for? What could anyone want from her? Or from Artemis?

Well, Artemis was rich… could the kidnapper want ransom? A sarcastic smile appeared on Holly's face. Kidnapped for ransom – again? If that wasn't ironic…

What could Artemis be thinking now? Was he scared? Desperate? Or just simply sad? _Well, at least now he too learns what it feels like having some you love kidnapped… _

_Holy Frond, what am I thinking?_ – She berated herself. Three months earlier she would have felt some malicious joy knowing that the stuck-up Mud Boy finally got his, but she wasn't supposed to feel the same way now. Yes, Artemis had been a horrible little bugger as a child, but he had changed. For _her_. He was a good man now. And he was surely beside himself with worry for her and for their baby.

Fear stabbed at Holly's heart like a dagger. The baby. Chloroform. Once Patrick had explained the properties of chloroform to her. It always caused unconsciousness, but sometimes even miscarriages and… and… malformed developing babies…

_No!_ – her mind screamed. - _My baby's fine! She's healthy! My magic has defended her, it wouldn't let her be harmed! Do you hear me, sweetie? Be healthy for Mummy, please!_

What she would have given at that moment to be able to lay her hands on her abdomen and caress it; but it was impossible, as her enormous hoop skirt gave her no access to her lower regions. With a sigh, she sank onto the sofa. For a few seconds she just stared at the floor with a resigned expression, then a smile spread on her face. She realised that subconsciously, she had called the baby 'her'.

"_Would you be disappointed if it were a girl?" _she had asked Artemis only a few weeks earlier.

"_If she's going to be as pretty and spunky as her mother, then no. Not a bit. Just don't teach her to punch people in the face," _he had answered.

At this moment, Holly couldn't even imagine that the baby could be anything but a girl. _Artemis is a girl's name… But we still won't call her Artemis_, she thought, grinning.

Suddenly, there were noises coming from outside. Steps echoing through a corridor or adjacent room, then the jingling of keys… and the door opened.

By the time Artemis finished recounting the story of Holly healing Angeline and rescuing Artemis Senior, the Fowl parents were rendered speechless. Angeline even had tears in her eyes, and a pleading look that tried to convey the message 'I will never ever say ill of that girl again, I promise, Arty'.

Artemis knew he should feel some kind of satisfaction seeing the shame on his mother's face, but he felt none of it. He felt utter lethargy instead.

"It's really not how I imagined my wedding night," he said once his parents had turned in.

"It's not like Holly and you hadn't been acting as though every night since April had been your wedding night," Juliet commented.

"Now I really needed to hear that." Patrick rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Really, Artemis," Butler spoke up, "how come the kidnapper managed to get into your room? They cannot have known the code…"

"Ah, don't even remind me of that…" The young businessman hid his face in his palms. "I left that bloody door open because Holly wanted a through draught."

"Well, no use crying over spilt milk, is there?" Root said matter-of-factly. "It's time to start the investigation. But with what?" He started tucking at his Gandalf-like beard. "Hmm… Too bad humans don't wear eyeball gems…"

Juliet nodded, remembering how the LEP had found out who had kidnapped Patrick. It seemed to have happened ages ago, even though only three months had passed.

"Well, there _is_ a camera directed at the back door…" Artemis replied thoughtfully.

In the next instant everyone hopped up from the sofa and the surrounding chairs and hurried upstairs into the study.

Holly drew herself up and sat as elegantly on the sofa as possible. Whoever her captor was, she mustn't show any signs of fear or despair. She must look strong and self-confident. The latter was something she had seen enough times from Artemis to be able to copy it.

Even if she knew that her kidnapper must have been a woman, she was expecting her captor – the mastermind behind the kidnapping - to be a possibly large, unsympathetic man, thus she was more than surprised to see a woman enter. The sun shone into the room, filling it with a joyful yellowish hue, giving Holly a detailed view of the newcomer. The woman couldn't have been older than twenty-eight and had enigmatic green eyes and dark brown – almost black – hair that reached to her waistline. She wore high heels that clanked with every step she made.

"I expect you were the one who kidnapped me," Holly addressed the newcomer.

"Brilliant deduction, Miss Short. Oh, sorry, _Mrs Fowl_." A nasty smile appeared on the otherwise aloof woman's face.

"You know my name, but I don't know yours," Holly replied sharply. "And I'd like to know your reasons for kidnapping me."

"One question at a time," the woman said coldly. "My name is Emese."

"Emese… that's a Hungarian name, isn't it? But Emese _What_? I take you have a surname?" The fairy raised an eyebrow at the Mud Woman.

"I do, but I'm not stupid enough to disclose it. If everything goes well, then I will have the required information and you are free to leave in a few hours, and you can forget that I ever existed. No need for petty police investigations… and no need for you to know my full name."

"So you want information." Holly crossed her arms. "What sort? I doubt I know anything that could help dubious characters in their business ventures. I can assure you I have no idea about my husband's trade secrets if that's what you…"

The dark-haired woman began laughing. "Oh, no, nooooo… trade secrets? Now honestly… Do I look like someone who wants money?"

"You look greedy enough," Holly replied with a withering glance.

"Greedy, yes, but not for money… for knowledge, little fairy."

All of a sudden, all the blood ran out of Holly's face. "What… what did you call me?"

"Fairy, my dear. After all, that's what you are… aren't you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Holly hissed.

"Oh, I am sure you know what I'm talking about," Emese trilled. "Young Mr Fowl was always said to be a weirdo, and his weirdness manifested itself brilliantly in marrying a female of another species…"

"What do you want from me?"

"Getting down to business already? Are all fairies this impatient?"

"No, but all fairies get nervous very quick, and if they get nervous, they hypnotize humans and control them at their pleasure. Would you like to hop around on one leg, barking like a dog?" Holly gave the woman a satisfied grin.

"Not really," Emese replied. "But I doubt you could hypnotize me in your condition, Mrs Fowl."

Holly's face darkened.

"I happen to know that pregnant fairies can't use magic unless they want to risk their baby's health…" The captor carried on with a smug smile. "Would you like to endanger that little Fowl-fairy?"

"Get – down – to – business," Holly said heavily.

"Okay, okay, no need to be grouchy, dear." Emese waved playfully. "As I said, I need information."

"If you want me to tell you the fairies' secrets, then you're very daft, _dear_," Holly answered. "I'd rather die than to betray my people."

"Who said I wanted you to betray them? Do I look that evil?" Emese made a pout. "No, Mrs Fowl, I don't care for fairy-secrets, I'm rather interested in Attila's grave."

"Who's grave?" The elf blinked.

"Great Hun king in the fifth century. Don't pretend you don't know…"

"Why do you think I would know? I haven't even heard the bloke's name, let alone know anything about his grave."

The dark-haired woman gave Holly a quizzical look. "Don't you fairies have legends? Don't you spread stories about exciting things that happened to you?"

"Certainly we do, but I still don't understand what legends have to do with this Attila person."

"Well, let's say I believe you... I don't, but let's imagine that I do…" With that Emese stepped to a cabinet and withdrew something that looked like two thin panes of glass with something yellowish between them.

"What's this?"

"A part of a diary, written by Attila's Roman clerk. It says that the slaves who had buried Attila all died when the Huns shot them, but there was a female fairy who had witnessed the funeral and escaped from the arrows. Don't tell me that you guys don't have the fairy-version of the story…"

"We don't," Holly replied. "Even if that particular fairy survived, she kept the secret. Probably took it with herself to the grave, if she's died yet."

"_If_ she's died yet?" Emese's eyes widened. "Is it possible she still lives?"

"Of course. Fairies can live up to two thousand years." A sarcastic smile appeared on Holly's face. "You will long be dead and forgotten when I'm still around, telling stories to my great-great-grandchildren about a stupid woman who kidnapped me from my wedding."

"If you don't die much earlier, dear," came the cold reply. "Because if I don't get what I want, you and poor Artemis will never have a chance to have your wedding night… unless he's one for necrophilia…"

Holly made a grimace at the mental image. "My husband can be a bit perverted sometimes, but not _that much_," she commented. "So, what do you expect of me? I don't know whether this particular fairy is still alive or not, so there's nothing I can do."

"No, I don't think you can, especially here in captivity." Emese shook her head with a thoughtful expression. "However, _other fairies_ surely can."

"Other fairies?" Holly frowned.

"Yeah. I bet you have loads of friends among the fairies… friends who'd do anything in their power to help you out of here. Fairies who'd go to any length to get me the information and buy your freedom."

"My freedom? Don't make me laugh." Young Mrs Fowl rolled her eyes. "Even if I can't use magic, I could beat you at close-quarters anytime and escape from here."

"Close-quarters? In a hoop skirt? Highly unlikely, dear. You can barely move in it, let alone fight… And even if you managed to knock me unconscious and fled from this room, you wouldn't get out of the building without my guards noticing. They are extremely well-trained. Not even a mouse could enter or leave without them noticing, let alone a bride in a pompous white dress."

"So what are you going to do now, Emmy, dear?" Holly leaned back into the sofa, trying to look as cool and nonchalant as possible.

"Contact your beloved hubby, Holly, dear."

"Looks like a woman to me," Butler said as he, his sister, Artemis, Patrick, Mulch and Root examined the replayed tape. He had just hit the 'pause' button and the screen showed a figure carrying, or rather pulling, Holly's limp body. The kidnapper had some kind of a cloak whose hood covered its head, but its moves seemed feminine enough and in the lower right-hand corner of the screen something like the heel of a stiletto was visible.

"Agreed." Artemis nodded sullenly. Having seen the letter by the 'uninvited guest', he'd immediately guessed that the kidnapper – or at least the letter's writer – must have been female. "I'm just wondering how this woman had got into the house… She might as well have been one of the invited guests who sort of… escaped a bit earlier, but she could as easily have sneaked in without an invitation. After all, not a single guard was looking at the parking place… remind me later to lodge a complaint against their employer. What company was that again?"

"The Dublin Security," Juliet answered. "One of the best, right, Dom?"

"At least they are said to be the best…"

"Whatever. I will gladly help them on the way of going bankrupt," Artemis replied darkly.

"Normally I'm not a man of revenge, but this once I agree with you," Butler said. "Such negligence is unacceptable from security people."

"And? What's the next step?" Mulch enquired.

"The next step is that you leave, Diggums," Root barked at the dwarf.

"No reason to treat me like that, Julius," Mulch said in a would-be-hurt voice. "If I may remind you, I'm no convict anymore. I've been pardoned and I'm free to go wherever I please. And if I please to stay at Fowl Manor for a while, then that's what I will do. If I'm welcomed here, of course." He sent the 'groom' a meaningful glance.

"Of course you're welcome, Mulch," Artemis sighed, running his hand tiredly through his pitch-black locks. "As for your question… the next step? No idea. Patrick?" He turned to the boy whose auburn hair looked flaming red in the light of the rising sun. "Can you, as the resident genius, suggest something?"

The child shook his head. "Not really, Dad. If all we can get from the tape is a hooded figure and half a stiletto, then I'm at my wit's end."

"Then all we can do is wait…" His father sighed. "Again."

"Dad! Dad?"

Artemis awoke to being shaken by someone. "No Mum, I don't want that lollypop…" he muttered, still half-asleep.

"DAD!" Patrick's voice sounded peremptory.

"What?" Artemis yawned, rubbing his eyes. As he looked around, he saw that he was half-sitting, half-lying in an armchair by the study's window. What was he doing here?

Then it hit him: Holly had been kidnapped, they had established that the abductor was a female, and he'd tried to stay awake in case news from Holly arrived, but somehow he still must have fallen asleep. By the look of things it was late in the afternoon that meant he must have slept at least eight-nine hours. Heavens, so many things could happen in eight hours! So many things could have happened to Holly!

His mind screaming curses at himself for dozing off, he sat up properly and glanced at his son, stifling another yawn. "Any news?"

"Yeah." The boy nodded excitedly. "An email. We haven't read it yet, it came for you, after all…"

As though hit by an electric bolt, Artemis jumped up from the armchair and hurried over to the computers. Only one was switched on, the Outlook Express flickering on its screen.

With week knees, Artemis took a place on the chair facing the computer and clicked on the one single email in his Inbox.

With shadows under their eyes, Root, Butler and Juliet watched young Fowl read the message. Mulch didn't watch anyone, as he was snoring under one of the tables.

As Artemis's eyes scanned the mail, a bell buzzed – the one that Angeline used to alert Juliet that she needed the young woman's services.

With a sour expression the Butler girl rose from her chair and left.

Second after second passed, and Domovoi, Root and Patrick started to fidget more and more excitedly.

"So?" the boy said after another few seconds.

Artemis pretended not to have heard him and carried on reading.

A crack came from under the table, signalling that the dwarf had moved.

Root was the next to clear his throat to remind the young man that they were polite enough not to look into his private mail but they were also getting more and more annoyed by the lack of information.

"Ehm… Artemis…?" Butler asked after a while.

Mulch, who had indeed moved and had even woken up, now scampered to the rest of the group.

Finally the new husband let out a sigh. "Finished."

"And?" asked Patrick, Butler and Root in unison.

"You could have read it along with me, you know…" Artemis replied with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Come." He stood up and let Butler take his place. Root and Patrick peeked over the manservant's broad shoulders while Mulch pulled up a chair and stood on it to be tall enough to see the screen.

_Mr Fowl,_

_As I expected, and I take you expected it too, I have to resort to contacting you, as your wife is unwilling to provide me with the information I need._

_Apparently she doesn't even know the answer to my question, but even if she does, she's reluctant to share it. She claims that she has never heard of a fairy who witnessed the Hun King Attila's funeral (oh yes, I **know** she's a fairy – I must say it's something that surprised her too). _

_However, young Mrs Fowl says that fairies have long lives, and it is possible that the fairy – a female one – who had been an acquaintance of Attila is still alive. If so, find that fairy. Find out whether she's still alive or not, and if she's alive, get her to tell you where the Hun King was buried. I give you one week, Mr Fowl. Until then Mrs Fowl shall remain unharmed, you have my word for it._

_Once you have the required information, just reply to this email._

_Have a nice investigation!_

_Sincerely,_

_The Kidnapper_

For a few seconds everyone just stared at the screen without uttering a single word, then they turned to Artemis.

"They know Holly's a fairy…" Root said grumpily.

Artemis nodded with a dark expression. "I told you they might know," he said. "The question is: _how_ did they find out?"

The commander and Butler turned to the dwarf.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Mulch whined. "I haven't told anyone that fairies exist, honest!"

"We don't suspect you." Artemis waved irritably. "Butler, can we trace the email?"

"No." The manservant shook his shaven head. "At least _we_ can't."

Artemis exchanged a glance with Patrick. "Foaly," they breathed.

"You rang, madam?" Juliet asked as she entered the older Fowl couple's room.

Artemis the First was standing by the window, staring out while Angeline was still in bed, looking very pale and on the verge of tears.

"Yes, Juliet." She nodded. "Any news on Holly?"

Juliet opened her mouth to reply 'yes, Arty's just received an email', but she thought better of it. She knew well enough how much Artemis disliked enquiries from his parents, and if he found out that she had spilt things to his parents without his consent, he might get angry.

"No, madam. No news yet. But Artemis will surely tell you if there's something. Would you like something?"

"Just a pain-killer. This terrible head-ache…" Angeline rubbed her forehead. "Worrying doesn't do me any good. But I can't stop worrying… that poor girl… pregnant and kidnapped!"

"Don't worry about Holly, madam. She's a tough girl and can take care of herself. I bet she's beating the crap out of her kidnappers right now…" Juliet winked at the lady of Fowl Manor. Before Angeline could give her a scandalised look, she turned on her heels. "I'll get you your pain-killer, madam."

"What's the news?" Juliet hurried into the study, completely forgetting about the pain-killer she had promised to Angeline.

"Read it for yourself." Artemis shrugged, motioning the woman to sit before the computer.

"Attila… what the heck?" Juliet said as she finished reading. "This tramp must have gone mad!"

"Not necessarily mad… just greedy," Artemis replied, dropping himself into the armchair by the window.

"Why, what's so special about Attila's grave?"

"It is said to have a lot of treasures in it," young Fowl explained. "Attila himself was buried in a triple coffin: bronze outside, silver in the middle and gold inside. Archaeologists have been looking for that grave for centuries, but no luck so far. If someone found it, it would rival the discovery of Tutankamen's grave. And, what did my mother want?"

Juliet shrugged. "Just a pain-killer. She's worried herself dead about Holly. But I didn't tell her that you've just received an email…"

"Good. Don't even tell her. Anything. Nor father. I don't want them involved in this madness."

"Hey, Dad, it's Foaly." Patrick beckoned to Artemis.

The centaur's face appeared on the screen with a forlorn expression. "Got your coded message, Pat. Things sound real bad. What can I do for you?"

"Track the email I forwarded to you," the boy responded.

"No problem…" Foaly's face disappeared from the screen as the centaur galloped over to another computer in the Ops booth. For a while nothing but the tapping of keys could be heard, then finally Foaly reappeared. "That was easy enough. The email was sent from the Dublin airport."

"D'Arvit," Patrick breathed. "That doesn't help a bit."

"No, it doesn't." Artemis sighed. "Apparently our little kidnapper was smart enough not to send the email from their home."

"And what now?" The centaur asked. "Shall we start looking for that female fairy, Julius?"

Root shook his head with a lethargic expression, even forgetting to tell off the technical genius for calling him Julius. "It can't be done. We know nothing, absolutely nothing about that fairy, only that she was alive one thousand and five hundred years ago. There are thousands of fairies old enough to be her. We can't visit each and ask 'hey, did you know one Hun King, old lady?'"

"Why not advertise? _L.E.P. seeking a fairy who knew Attila_," Juliet suggested.

"Out of the question," Artemis answered before Root could have commented. "People would be curious to know why the L.E.P is after this fairy… the truth about Holly would come out and that would be the end of her life. Her life as a fairy, to be exact. If the People found out that she's left Haven to live with _me_, she'd become an outcast. Right, Commander?" He turned to Root.

The elderly elf nodded. "The People loathe humans. If they found out that Holly has consorted with one… worse, slept with one… even worse, carried one's child, she'd be regarded as though she were…"

"…contaminated?" Artemis finished the sentence.

"Yes," came the silent reply.

"See, Juliet," said the young husband, "we can't let anyone below ground know why we are looking for that fairy. We can't risk Holly's future."

"Aren't _you_ her future?" The female bodyguard asked.

"For a while… yes. But I must never forget that she will have a much longer future _without_ me," Artemis answered, staring at the armrests of the chair he was sitting in, clearly avoiding everyone's glances. But even like this, the onlookers could see the pain on his features. "The point is, I mustn't be selfish enough to disclose the truth about us to the fairies just to find her and get her back. I can't choose the short-lived happiness. I have to make a long-range decision here, and I will not be risking Holly's reputation as a fairy. We need to find another solution."

"I agree." Patrick nodded. "But what?"

Artemis rose from the armchair. "Come with me, Son." As the others stirred as well, he added: "Patrick only."

Mulch and Root gave him a hurt expression, Butler groaned with frustration and Juliet stuck her tongue out at Artemis.

Patrick followed his father out of the study and after a few minutes of walk he saw where they were heading: the same hidden room Artemis had guided him into the previous evening to make sure that no one of the guests would overhear their conversation. The tapestry depicting Lord Hugo de Fole was lifted by his father and they slipped into the room behind it.

"What is this about?" Patrick questioned as Fowl Junior switched on the lights and walked to a table at the end of the room. Carefully Artemis opened one of the drawers and lifted out something that looked a lot like a semi-finished watch.

"What's this?"

"This, my Son, is a time-machine."


	7. A Theory of Timetravel

**A/N**: the layout of the chapter might look a bit different than usual because I'm uploading it as a Word document this time. The reason: ffnet started to screw up my ellipses and my apostrophe's: all were changed into question marks. So I had to try Word format instead of html.

**Warning: **this chapter is somewhat patriotic. Well… a bit… over-patriotic ;) Sorry about that, I couldn't help mentioning a few nice things about my country :)

_Queen Dragon_: yes, it explains the cover. And yes, they're going back to get the information :)

_the Thirteenth Councilor_: so, Nat/Kitty are a bit like Arty/Holly, then. I just hope Arty doesn't die any time soon… I'm still mourning Nat, even though I know he turned evil. For someone who only read book one he'll always be a loveable, talented and downtrodden hero.

_AnnieThePipster_: about the question marks: please see the comment I put in the A/N of the previous chapter, right above the chapter's title. I see your point with time travel, that's why I didn't want to write such fics for a long time… but this once it seemed a good idea to play with time a bit ;) Artemis badly needs this little time travel to sort out his priorities.

_Anonymous_: I have no idea how cold/warm 60 degrees is (you use Farenheit, right?)… we in Europe use Celsius degrees, and that's completely different. I'm glad I managed to make you like Mulch, because I like him a lot! He's the funniest character, IMHO. Emese is pronounced as 'Ehmesheh'. Typical Hungarian name – the Hungarian language is full of 'e's. We can write short stories by using 'e' as the only vowel. We call such stories 'Esperente' based on 'Esperanto' ;)

_C-chan1_: I have absolutely no idea what DST is. Three princes at the same time… Well, similar things might happen in the fic too ;)

_I should be Studying_: I don't wear rings ;) Arty getting his genius back… weeeeell… As for Patrick – no, he won't fall for Juliet, I just wanted to show with that little scene that he was starting to turn into a teenager… he will act like one in the near future.

_refloc_: I'm not sure which Hun you are referring to… Attila, perhaps? Because if yes, then yes, he WAS real. He lived in the fifth century, was a great king, feared by the whole of Europe. Most things that you will read about him in this fic come from history books and legends, but some elements are made up by me.

_Marissa the Scamp_: Opal will only appear for two short scenes. Foaly won't have much of a role either. He'll have five-six scenes, no more. Emese is more ruthless, you'll see later. And she's a bit mad too, of course ;)

_Lii_: I've seen HP3 and read the book too, obviously. And the time travel in HP will be mentioned in this fic as well, in chapter… 9, I think. After all, Patrick is a HP fan :)

_SPG_: why would you want to stop reviewing? I'm glad that you review!

_Chixawitch_: ffnet didn't recognise my ellipses.

Also thanks to: _Mistri, Tonks' Admirer, frenchpiment, hogwartscharmed1, Rebel Rose, Zodokai, Purple Eyes Cat, The OddBird, hello, kellylien, Trouble Kelp, Adaia Swordmaiden, Mousewolf, __123amSObored, BeatlesLover, lil-buddy, Bethany, AutumnBreeze25, septempopuli, anonymous, The Flying Moose, ebtwisty9, Lady Emerald Black, Teya Yashitoda, iccy_

**Chapter 7**

**A Theory of Time-travel**

"A time-machine?" Patrick echoed his father's words with a doubtful edge to his voice. "You must be kidding."

"Well, not really a time-machine… _yet_. It's unfinished," Artemis replied.

"But… but Dad… it's impossible… totally impossible to travel through time, it's against all the rules of logic and definitely all the rules of physics!" The boy protested.

"And isn't the Star Trek-style transportation against all the rules of physics?" Artemis arched an eyebrow at Patrick, referring to the project the boy was currently working on.

"Well…" Patrick stared at the watch look-alike in his father's hands. "You have a point."

"I usually do." Artemis nodded. "However, I'm incapable of finishing this, I don't have the mental capacities anymore. You've got to do it instead if we want to go back in time and find that fairy in her own time."

"Her own time? You mean… Attila's time?" The young half-elf's eyes widened. "You can't be serious!"

"Why, what else can we do? Name one option, just one that is more sensible and more accomplishable than this one, and I won't hesitate to accept it. Use your famous brains, and come up with something. I'm waiting." With that Artemis put the watch on the nearby table and sat in an armchair, crossing his legs. Patrick had never seen him so arrogant before. Yes, his father looked arrogant and sounded sarcastic, but there was something else on his features too. _Envy_, Patrick noticed. So that's why his father had spat the words 'your famous brains' like that… He envied his son for his genius. That genius had come from Artemis, Patrick knew that. If it weren't for Artemis - if the fairies had chosen someone else as his biological father - he wouldn't have his wonderful intelligence. Artemis had been the source, he had been the spring, but that spring had dried out. It had died.

An invisible hand stabbed an invisible dagger into the boy's heart. How he pitied this Mud Man! How he longed to help him… if only there was a way to give his father at least part of his genius back! Patrick found himself thinking he would gladly give up half of his own intellect if that could be somehow transferred into Artemis.

Sarcastic or not, arrogant or not, this Mud Man was his father, and in the past few months Patrick had learned not only to honour him, but to like him as well. He couldn't even feel angry with Artemis for his latest words. He had a good enough idea what his father was going through, and he couldn't blame him for his arrogant behaviour. Artemis couldn't find his place, and that caused him to act like that. Simple psychology.

"No." Patrick shook his head. "I can't think of another way. At least not of a way that would not endanger Mum's fairy-reputation. It's… really nice of you to want to keep her honour before the fairies, you know…"

"Nice," Artemis snorted. "That must've been the first time someone mentioned the word 'nice' in connection with me or any of my actions. Don't call me nice," he said, raising to his feet. "I don't deserve it. If there's one good thing you can say about me, then it's the fact that I love your mother. And I'd do anything to save her."

"Even go back a thousand years in time…" Patrick muttered, snatching the 'watch' off the table. "Looks like quite an elaborate contraption. Can you explain it to me, or do you have notes on its development-process?"

"Loads of notes, actually. I hope you can make something out of them and finish this little beauty."

"I'm sure I can." The boy nodded. "But not without you. We're in this together, Father. We're going to finish it together."

Artemis gave his son a wry smile. "I doubt I'll be much of a help, but I'll be around if you need me."

o o o O O O o o o

"So, how's our pretty prisoner doing?"

"Quite well, Cesare," Emese replied. "She seemed fairly calm for someone who's been kidnapped. Calm? Well, except for the fact that she threatened me with beating the crap out of me." The woman let out a small, cold laugh. "A fiery little wench, this young Mrs Fowl."

"_Si_, she definitely is." Cesare Cavalieri nodded. He had only met Holly on a few occasions when assigning her new translation tasks, but he had always had the impression that she was a feisty person, someone who could set things (especially men's hearts) on fire, by merely looking at them. No wonder that even indifferent Artemis Fowl warmed up a bit having this red-headed witch at his side. "But her husband…" he continued, "you should have seen him at the wedding after you abducted his little wife… That Fowl boy is the epitome of stoicism. If I hadn't known what was going on in his mind, I wouldn't have noticed anything. The way he came down the stairs and announced that his wife didn't feel up to rejoining the guests… well, that was some masterful acting! I take my hat off to him."

"Whatever." The woman waved irritably. "I don't care for Fowl's talents in making a poker face, Cesare. I'm only interested in the _sword_."

"_Va bene, va bene_, dear Miss Hunfalvy. You'll get your wonderful sword," the man replied in a tired voice.

"I do hope I will. But of course Mrs Fowl isn't helping too much. She denies knowing anything about Attila. So I had to contact her husband."

"I hope you emailed him from a neutral territory. I wouldn't be happy if young Fowl traced the email back to here."

"I emailed him from Dublin airport. No need to worry."

"Easy to say, my dear accomplice. You can't lose much if things turn bad – besides your freedom, of course. But I could lose much more. Not only my freedom and big plans, but Timmy's trust and friendship as well. You know how much his friendship means to me…" Cavalieri sent his companion a sarcastic grin.

"I can imagine it." Emese grinned back. "I bet that fool never noticed you were just pumping him for money…"

"No, he did not. But his son did, at least I think so. Young Artemis never seemed too trusting towards me."

"Wonder why?" The woman playfully raised an eyebrow at him. "That man is a genius, after all. I bet he can see through many things. If I were you, I would be praying he didn't see through your current game."

"Don't worry about that, Emese. I was there at the wedding, and left as the last of the guests. He couldn't suspect me. I was dancing there, in front of his eyes while _someone evil_ kidnapped his red-haired fairy. I have the perfect alibi. And even if his cameras managed to record something, you were wearing that hood all along, weren't you?"

"I was."

"See? Then he couldn't have seen your face. And even if he did, he couldn't tell you were working for me, as no one here in Ireland knows about our connection. The only way he could start suspecting me is…" The archaeologist's voice trailed off.

"How?" The woman demanded.

"If old Tim suddenly remembered having told me about Holly being a fairy. But he was too drunk to remember anything, so I'm not worried. You're right, I should not worry. Not in the least. Soon I'll be famous and celebrated. The man who found Attila's grave!"

"Before you get carried away, aren't you a bit afraid that young Artemis might report you to the police after he gets his wife back and you suddenly appear on the newspapers' front page as the second Howard Carter?"

"First, I will not be the _second_ Howard Carter!" Cavalieri snapped. "Second? I have greater ambitions than to be called a 'second', dearest Emese. As for Fowl reporting me… nah. If he did, he would need to tell the police about the whole fairy-business too, and I doubt he would want to. He'll have to sit back and watch as I become world-famous. And then old Tim too can turn against me if he will, I won't need his pitiful donations anymore."

"Sounds good. Sounds too optimistic, to tell you the truth," she said thoughtfully. "But it sounds sort of realistic too. Young Fowl would not want to reveal anything about the fairies, so he'll just have to keep his mouth shut and be happy that he got his beloved wife back. You'll be famous… and I'll be satisfied." A greedy smirk spread on Miss Hunfalvy's elegant features. "Finally, what is rightfully mine, will belong to me. The Sword of God… oh, if I close my eyes I can already feel its hilt in my hand…"

"And _you_ tell me not to get carried away," Cesare commented in an amused voice. "Do tell, how can you be so sure that the sword is hidden in the grave? There are legends that the last Hun shaman carried it with himself into the Carpathian Mountains and hid it somewhere up there."

"The legends!" Miss Hunfalvy waved. "Legends are legends, but history is history. And there is a tale, a _true story_ that was passed down by generations of Huns that the sword was buried with Attila. That legend about the shaman and the Carpathians was made up to mislead the other folks living around in the Carpathian basin. But we, the Huns, know better."

"How long will you keep insisting that you're the last of the Huns?" Signor Cavalieri rolled his eyes.

"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" the woman asked sharply. "I can assure you I'm not. I'm perfectly sane, thank you very much. And I _am_ the last living descendant of Attila! Thus his sword belongs to _me_. I told you, Cesare: I don't need any of the gold that you find in his grave. Nothing, but the Sword of God. I agreed to go into this madness with you, to commit a crime, just to get what is rightfully mine. And I _will_ get it, if that's the last thing I do."

As the man glanced at his companion, he felt a shiver run down his spine. The fire blazing in Emese's eyes was creepy. It was a fire of both enthusiasm and fanaticism. There was no doubt: if this woman wanted something, she'd get it.

o o o O O O o o o

"A time-machine?" Juliet gasped. "You've got to be kidding, Arty."

"Am not. It's the only way of finding that particular fairy," Artemis replied seriously. "At least it _seems _to be the only way. Even Patrick confirmed that, and he's the brains of the family."

Ignoring the hardly-hidden bitterness in his father's voice, Patrick nodded. "Indeed. Dad showed me his invention along with the 3D blueprint of the whole contraption, and it seems to be near to perfection. I think with a few days' work, I will be able to complete it. But of course it will take another few days to build a second one…"

"A second one?" Root raised a greyish eyebrow at the boy.

"Yeah, because I'm going with Dad."

"Normally I would refuse to let you come and put you in danger, but we'll need someone who can think clearly," Artemis agreed.

"But… but sending him back in time? He's just a child, Fowl!" the commander objected.

"A child with the highest IQ on the face of Earth," Patrick replied coolly. "Father said it right, we will need all brain cells to fare in a world so different from ours. We will need all cunning to persuade the Huns that we come with good intentions and of course to get that fairy lady to trust us. I'm going, and you can't stop me, Uncle Julius. I'm doing it for Mum."

The commander's strict features seemed to soften at the mention of Holly.

"Well, then, make three of those watch-thingies, 'cause I'm coming too," Mulch interjected.

"Four, because I'm coming too," Root added.

Juliet just opened her mouth to say 'five, because I'm coming too', but Artemis held up a hand to stop the words that wanted to leave her mouth. "One: I like the idea of Mulch joining us, he might come in handy with his extraordinary talents. However, I must insist that you stay here, Commander. Or rather, in Haven. Stay and pretend that everything's all right. Spread the news that Patrick went on a trip to Atlantis to visit his mother. As for you, Juliet, stay here and divert my parents' attention."

"But…" the female Butler began, but Artemis waved to silence her.

"This is a risky mission, Juliet. Risky, but hopefully not dangerous enough for me to need a bodyguard. However, it's risky enough to endanger or delay our return. So you'll have to be around and engage Mother's attention in case we're late in coming back."

"But what counts as _late_?" Butler asked.

"Saturday," Artemis replied. "The one week we got from the kidnapper ends on Saturday. If we don't manage to come back by then, then it _will_ be late."

"And how can you come back by Saturday if Patrick needs at least five-six days to complete three watches?" The one-time bodyguard enquired. "By the time he finishes them, you will need to be back already because the time set by the kidnapper will be up. You won't have any time to go back in time and spend some time there to figure things out about this fairy woman… or am I completely wrong?"

"If everything goes well, we _can_ come back just in time, actually one second after we left," Artemis explained.

"One second? What?" Mulch frowned. He was definitely losing it.

Artemis heaved a sigh. This was going to be difficult. "Let's imagine that Patrick completes the three time-machines on Friday, at noon. We leave at 12:01. However, in the past, we can set the machines to bring us back to Friday 12:01:01."

"Why not to sometime earlier, then? Like… your wedding day? Yes, why not go back to your wedding day and stop the whole kidnapping?" Root suggested.

"Out of the question." Artemis shook his head. "I have a theory about time-travel… In movies and fantasy books you can see the characters going back in time and seeing themselves in their years or days or hours younger state. However, this is impossible. Don't ask why, it would be too difficult to explain… come to think of it, I'm not even sure I could still explain it and make it sound sensible. The point is that I have thought of this a lot, before Holly appeared and gave me my memories back. I kept thinking for months… well, _years_, and I created a theory… or more than a theory, as I'm sure it's right. According to this theory, you can't go back to a time when you already existed. You can't be there along with your younger self. It's a physical impossibility. However, you can go back to any date _before_ you were conceived, because back then you didn't exist. So, you could go back a second before your conception, but once that second is over and you are conceived, something goes seriously amiss."

"What?" Mulch enquired.

"I don't know." Artemis shook his head. "I can merely guess, but it's highly likely that if you exist only a millisecond at the same time with your younger self, one of you ceases to exist, as there cannot be more than one of you at once. Either you die in your current state, or that fertilized egg that is supposed to be you gets destroyed, and with that, your future self ceases to exist as well. Practically, you die either way."

"That's horribly disillusioning," Juliet sighed. "I so loved Back to the Future II, with two cutesy Marty McFlies at once…"

Artemis resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Well, sorry to disappoint you, but there won't be two cutesy Artemis Fowls anywhere at once."

"Course, Arty, one of you is cute enough." Juliet winked at him.

"Be careful with assertions like that, little sister. If Holly were here, she'd be jealous," her brother reminded her.

A minute of silence ensued. _If Holly were here…_

"Well, let's get down business," Artemis spoke up. "Come, Son, let's finish the time-machine."

o o o O O O o o o

"So Artemis developed a time-machine?" Foaly whistled admiringly. "Why am I not surprised? Actually, such a good idea should have occurred to _me_…"

Root waved irritably. "He didn't let me go with them!"

"And he was right," the centaur pointed out. "He might not be a genius anymore, but apparently he still has more sense than some…"

"Are you referring to me, Civilian?" Root barked, lighting a fungus cigar.

"Oh, nooooo, why would I?" Foaly said innocently. "But the Mud Boy has a point, admit it. Haven needs you, Julius. Holly left, you can't leave too. Who would be our dear commander if you did? Ark Sool, perhaps?"

"Don't even mention that idiot to me," Root grunted, accidentally biting off a part of his cigar.

"Bet you're just jealous of him, Julius…"

"Jealous?" Root's eyebrows ran high on his forehead. "What do you mean, pony boy? Why would I be jealous of Sool?"

"Well, perhaps because the lovely Vinyáya is giving him a bit more attention lately than to you…" Foaly said with a polite smile.

"Annie isn't giving him more attention!"

"_Annie_?" The centaur looked amused.

"Well, that's her name…" Root shrugged. "And, just so that you know, the only reason why the wing-commander is pretending to give Sool attention is to make me jealous."

"Yeah, of cooourse…"

The door of Ops Booth slid open and in marched Wing-Commander Vinyáya. "Greetings, Commander." She nodded in Root's direction. "Hello, Foaly. I've brought you my malfunctioning Neutrino, you said you could fix it in a second…"

"Half a second, actually." The centaur smirked.

The female elf handed him the weapon then turned back to Root. "How was your trip to Atlantis?"

"Pleasant, Wing-Commander, thank you. Little Patrick was very excited to see his mother again."

"So how long is Comm… _Miss_ Short going to stay in Atlantis?" she asked.

"As long as her sick old great-aunt needs her."

"Hmm. If I may voice my opinion, I don't think that a LEP Commander should quit her job just to take care of a sick relative. That's what nurses are for. A LEP Commander should have more sense of responsibility, don't you think? A LEP Commander has to serve thousands of fairies, not just one. Then again, we couldn't expect anything else from Holly Short, could we? A little too young and rash for such responsibility…" The woman's strict features softened a bit and Root and Foaly could have sworn they saw the shadow of a smile on her face. "Nice to have you back, Commander."

Minutes after she left, Root was still wondering what she had meant: nice to have him back after two days of absence, nice to have him back after several years spent under Holly's slightly imprudent commandership, or nice to have him back just because… she liked him?

o o o O O O o o o

Three days had passed since Artemis had made the big announcement about his planned time-travel. Patrick was endlessly working on the time-machine (he had finished the first one the previous day but he had to build two more, and not only complete them like with the first one but build them from the beginning.) Patrick occasionally asked his father for advice, but Artemis saw through the boy's game: he wanted to make sure his father felt needed. Not wanting to ruin it for Patrick, Artemis shared his pieces of wisdom with him, but kept it as short as possible. The boy did not need him for real, he knew it… yet, somehow he felt some sort of unknown warmth whenever Patrick pretended he couldn't figure something out without his help. Artemis didn't really know what kind of feeling it was, so he rather tried to ignore it, or even persuade himself that he was mad at the boy for trying to deceive him. He didn't need anyone's pity! But did the boy truly pity him? He didn't know.

Juliet spent her days serving the more and more annoyed Angeline (who was close to going into hysterics as no one cared to tell her what was going on with Holly), and using her little knowledge on sewing for creating three sets of clothes that looked remotely like things that people would wear in the fifth century.

Mulch was loitering around in the manor, trying to keep himself as far from the Fowl parents as possible (they need not know he was still there) and occasionally raiding the fridge and leaving chicken bones all around the kitchen, to Juliet's utter horror.

With Butler at his side, Artemis was gathering information he would need in Hungary and to pass himself for a fifth century man once he's in the Huns' camp. He kept in touch with Foaly and requested a forged passport for Patrick and Mulch, a pair of camfoils and a translator for himself. When the centaur had asked whether they'd need guns, Artemis refused it, saying it would only wake the Huns' suspicion, and after all, they weren't going back in time to fight but to get some information.

"As you wish," Foaly had said, his voice full of doubt. "Just try to explain this to old Julius too, because I'm sure he wouldn't agree with you if he knew you weren't taking any weaponry."

"Root is a soldier," Artemis had replied. "I'm a civilian. As are Patrick and Mulch. Civilians don't need weaponry."

"_Nowadays_ they don't. In the ancient times and the Middle Ages, however…" the centaur's voice trailed off.

"I know what you mean, and if you're wondering whether I'm not a bit afraid of marching into the camp of a thousand savages unarmed, then my answer is: of course I'm afraid. But I'd like to use brains instead of weapons to fight this battle."

Foaly's face turned pale and a peculiar light shone in his eyes as he examined Artemis's face on the screen.

The young man took a deep breath. "I know my limits, Foaly. I know I'm not the same strategist I used to be, but I'm still not completely daft and I still believe that we could fare well without fighting. And if the brains we will use aren't mine but Patrick's… well, that's fine for me too."

The LEP's technical genius gave the Mud Man an appreciative smile. "All right, Fowl. I wish you the best of luck. You'll have what you need by midnight at the Tara shuttle-port. I'm sure Julius will see to it personally that you get it in time. Holly's just too important for the old elf… and well, for me too. Find out about that fairy, and save our Holly, Fowl."

Artemis returned the centaur's smile. "I'll do my best. I promise."

o o o O O O o o o

"Arty! Arty?"

Artemis heaved a sigh. He was just about to get into bed after a long and tiring day of journey-arrangements, and now even his mother had to come and bother him.

"Already asleep," he muttered, hoping that Angeline would hear it but also that she would find it weak enough to believe that she had just woken him up from his slumber.

"Artemis!" It was his father's voice this time and it sounded peremptory. "I don't care whether you're asleep or not, open up this instant!"

How Artemis hated to be ordered around! But a father's command was still a father's command, even if he was an adult already. The Fowls had always lived by traditions, and 'respect your father' was one of the most prominent Fowl family traditions. 'Respect your mother' didn't belong to Fowl-traditions though, that's why Artemis had gone behind Angeline's back so many times. Not that he hadn't gone behind his father's back too… he'd just done it more subtly.

Groaning, Artemis padded to the door and opened it. "Yea, Mother? Father?" He rubbed his eyes and faked a yawn. However, it didn't seem to persuade his parents too much. Angeline looked hysterical and Artemis the First looked downright angry. "What have I done to deserve a look like that?"

Fowl Senior walked into the room past his son, followed by his wife. "This cannot go on like this, Artemis," he said coldly.

"What?" The young man tried to look politely confused.

"This whole secretiveness," his father replied. "You, Butler and Juliet are hiding something from us. Whenever we meet you, you tell us you're in a hurry and we should leave you alone. When we don't leave you alone, you refuse to tell us what exactly you are doing. Little Patrick is still here in the manor, but we barely see him as he keeps disappearing and whenever we meet him, he looks like he's going to die of exhaustion. But of course he doesn't tell us anything either. Butler pretends his IQ has dropped to eighty and to each question we ask he replies 'don't know, sir'. Juliet just serves the meals but when we ask her what's going on, she starts talking about the latest Parisian fashion like a Barbie doll come to life. And to cap it all, that Mulk Whoever is still around, littering the corridors with chicken legs!"

"_And Holly_!" Angeline added in just as passionate a fashion as her husband had talked, "What – about - Holly?"

Artemis dropped himself on the bed, propping his forehead in his palms. "You're asking too much."

"_Too much_?" His mother snapped. "We wouldn't be asking too much if you cared to answer our questions just once! But noooo, Mr Genius decides to keep it all to himself!"

"First," Artemis looked up, an expression of barely hid fury on his face, "I'm no Mr. Genius anymore. Second: if I thought it would do you any good to tell you what's going on, I would tell you. Third: I know exactly what you're feeling. I'd hate being left out of things also, but I'm not doing it to harm you or to take revenge on you for mistreating Holly or something…" He tiredly ran his hand through his dark locks, his eyes shifting to the merry green carpet. That carpet… It had been purchased by Holly not much after she'd moved into Fowl Manor. A small smile appeared on the young man's face at the memory of the shock he'd felt upon entering his own room and finding his neat navy curtains and rugs replaced by cheery orange and lime coloured things. _A woman's touch_, as Holly had called it…

"Listen," he said, standing up, "I don't want to argue with you. I love you both, and the only reason why I'm not letting you in on the details is that I know it's better for you not to know." He reached out and put a hand on his mother's shoulder. "I'm trying to save Holly, Mother. Butler, Juliet, Patrick and Mulch are doing the same. Let us do it in peace. You can't help, either of you." He looked at Fowl Senior. "Once this whole thing is over, I will tell you everything, I promise. And someday you will be able to tell the story to your grandchildren of how their dad saved their mum." _If I live to tell you the tale, that is_, he added in thought.

Tears appeared in Angeline's eyes. "Oh, Arty… I wish I'd never been nasty to Holly… When she comes back, I'll treat her like my own daughter, just… just bring her back… and don't get yourself into any trouble."

"That's a little too much to wish for, isn't it?" Artemis Senior gave his son an impish look. "I came here with the intention of berating you, Son, and I must admit I'm still full of doubts and frustration, but I trust you. Genius or not, you're still our clever son."

Artemis smiled at the older man in an embarrassed way. He wasn't used to getting such mushy, 'father-to-son' talk from Artemis the First and didn't really know how to react.

"Well, Mother, Father, I think it's still not fair not to tell you any of the details," he replied with a sudden thought. "Patrick, Mulch and I are leaving in a few days to Hungary. It's possible I'll be too busy in the next days to have meals with you, so we might not even meet… that's why I'm telling you this now. I can't tell you more, I'm sorry."

"Hungary?" Angeline looked surprised, but her husband gently hushed her before she could ask further. If their son said he couldn't tell them more, then they shouldn't badger him any longer.

She nodded, understanding her husband's silent message. Stepping to Artemis, she gathered him into her arms. "Do as you see fit, Arty. Just take care of yourself. And of little Pat too. We love you both, very-very much."

o o o O O O o o o

"So, why aren't we going through the chute-system to Hungry?" Mulch asked, massaging his rumbling stomach.

"It's Hung-A-ry, and the reason why we aren't going there underground is that we don't want Root or any of the fairies to be involved in this," Artemis replied. "And since Patrick's little transporter isn't fully operational yet, I think it wouldn't be wise to try beaming ourselves over to Hungary."

"It's not _beaming_, Dad," the boy corrected him. "It's a bit like Star Trek, that's true, but not exactly. You know, it's more like… a Portkey."

"Porkey?" Mulch asked eagerly as his stomach gave another mighty rumble.

"Never mind. The point is that we can't use the chutes and we can't use my invention either," Patrick said. "But I haven't flown yet, so I'd love to try it."

"You heard the young gentleman, Juliet," Artemis said. "Please book three tickets for the Dublin-Budapest flight for tomorrow." He glanced at Patrick. "I trust the last 'watch' will be ready by then?"

"Of course." The boy waved. "It's almost ready already. Oh, and Juliet, make sure that the seats you book aren't right above the plane's wings, that would block out most of the view."

"As you wish, young master." Juliet bowed playfully and backed out of the room.

"She doesn't take you seriously," Mulch told Patrick. "Regards you as though you were her little brother."

"She treats me like that too." Artemis shrugged. "And for some reason I never minded. She's the closest thing I ever had to a sibling. Come to think of it, Patrick, once we're back in time, you will be my little brother, _not_ my son."

"Why?"

"Because no one would think I'd fathered a child at the age of fourteen, even though people at the middle ages used to start a family much earlier than we do. Face it, I don't look like your father. Or do I?"

The boy sent him a mischievous grin. "Nope, you're too young for that, Dad. Oops, _Bro_. This is going to be fun."

"So, you're siblings now, but what am I? Uncle Mulch?" the dwarf asked. "And where's dinner?"

"You, old friend, are going to be our… jester," Artemis said, ignoring Diggums' question about dinner.

"Your what?" Mulch's eyes widened.

"Noblemen in the ancient times and the early middle ages found delight in keeping dwarves at their households," young Fowl explained. "Not real fairy dwarves, of course, just very short humans. You're going to be our dwarf, Mulcius."

"_Mulcius_? I think I've lost my appetite."

o o o O O O o o o

_Dublin Airport, Friday, 15th July, 2016_

"Take care. All three of you," Butler said as he and Juliet accompanied the time-travellers to the check-in area. "And don't mess too much with time, will you? God knows, it wouldn't be nice if you accidentally changed something back there and ended up changing the whole history."

"Don't worry about that, Butler." Artemis shook his head. "We don't intend to change anything. We are going to be outsiders, mere observers. We don't intervene in anything. We will only find and question that fairy woman and let Attila die in peace."

"Um… Arty?" Juliet spoke up hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"Would it be too much to ask for some sort of a… souvenir from the fifth century?"

"I can get you any from any museum." Artemis winked at her. "I'm too good in that sort of thing, aren't I, Butler?"

"Yes, definitely." The manservant smiled back.

"That's not what I meant, Arty!" The woman said with a pout.

"Well, if I can put my hands on a nice Hun necklace, I'll bring it for you," Artemis replied.

"But Arty! Do I look like someone who wants a necklace?" Juliet looked scandalised. "A bow. A real Hun bow with a quiver full of Hun arrows. That would be so cool…"

Butler and Patrick exchanged an amused glance while Artemis rolled his eyes. "I can't promise you that, Juliet. But if the possibility arises, I will bring you something."

"Spiffy. Bye, Arty. Bye, Smelly. Patrick…" Before the child could have put up resistance, Juliet pulled him into a motherly hug and pressed a smacking kiss on his cheek.

"Ew," Patrick commented, wiping his cheek, but grinning stupidly at Juliet.

"Anybody home?" Artemis patted Patrick on the shoulder.

"Huh?" The boy shuddered, as though waking from the mesmer.

"Ooooo, little Pat has a cruuuush!" Mulch chuckled as Patrick backed away from the Butler siblings, still in a state of shock.

o o o O O O o o o

"I'm warning you, I don't tolerate being taken for a fool," Opal Koboi's voice boomed at Foaly through the monitor, reverberating throughout Ops Booth.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, dear Opal." The centaur said, leaning back in his pony-chair with a clearly amused expression on his face. How he enjoyed seeing this pixie uncomfortable!

"You _know_ what I'm talking about," she hissed, sticking her face so close to her own screen that Foaly couldn't see anything but her hateful blue eyes. "I'm – talking – about - Mulch! He disappeared six days ago, saying he'd attend Fowl's wedding, and I haven't heard a word from him ever since!"

"Haven't you considered the possibility that he's got fed up with you and… escaped?" Foaly smirked nastily.

"Ha-ha, Pony Boy. You're very funny indeed. No, I'm sure Mulchie hasn't got fed up with me. He always kept saying he couldn't get enough of me, if you get what I mean…" She wriggled her blonde eyebrows at the centaur in a suggestive way. "So, I'm sure he hasn't escaped. There must be another reason for his absence, and I have a feeling _you know_ something."

"Oh, so Miss Koboi admits she hasn't managed to hack into my system in the last few days and find out what's going on?"

Opal's face turned ruby red.

"So, you've at least tried." Foaly grinned. "I suspect you and Diggums must have found out about Fowl's wedding from the LEP system… yeah, I noticed someone hacking into it the day before the wedding, and I immediately thought of _you_, dear Opal."

"How flattering," she fumed.

"I didn't mean to flatter you." The centaur shook his head. "However, to prevent your little hacking activities, I added some new security features to my system. Here's a new challenge for you. Try and break into it."

"Don't think that I won't manage to," the pixie hissed.

"I don't think you won't manage to." Foaly shrugged. "I'm not underestimating you anymore, Opal. That's why I'm in the middle of developing another, even safer system security. An _Opal-proof_ one," he added with a wink. "But back to your original question: yes, I know where Diggums is, and yes, I know what he's doing. But don't even dream of it that I will tell you. For one, it's a top secret business, two: I just love seeing you frustrated."

"Get stuffed, Pony Boy!" Miss Koboi snapped and punched the 'end call' button on her keyboard.

o o o O O O o o o

"I have no crush on Juliet, really!" Patrick reasoned as he followed his father down the aisle, looking for their seats.

"Aha, and what's up with those eyes you were making at her, eh?" Mulch's raspy voice said from behind.

"That was just… dunno. I was in a shock. That girl's mad!" Patrick said as his father stopped by a pair of seats. "Great, it's not over the wings. May I sit by the window, Da… Artemis?"

"Fine by me. I've flown more times than I could count." Artemis shrugged as the boy eagerly dropped himself into the seat by the window. Mulch took a seat right behind Patrick's.

"Hey, Arty, have you seen this?" The dwarf waved a brochure in front of the Irishman's eyes over the back of his seat.

"Yes." Young Fowl sighed. "It's just a piece of paper full of instructions – where you can find the emergency exit and things like that."

"That's now what I meant," Mulch replied. "It says MALÉV on it. MALév… Heh, I hope it's not MALfunctioning…"

"Very funny, Mulch. Just for your information, it's short for Magyar Légiközlekedési Vállalat – Hungarian Airlines."

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain speaking. Welcome on our Dublin-Budapest flight. The journey will take approximately three hours. Please fasten your seatbelts, we're taking off. Have a pleasant journey."

Artemis was amused to see the sudden excitement on Patrick's features. As much as the seat belts allowed him, the boy leaned forward and practically pressed his nose to the windowpane, his eyes drinking in the sights.

"Woah," he breathed after a few minutes. "That's just… cool. The fields look like a patchwork quilt! And that river, it's just like a silver snake! Beauttttifulllll! D'you see that, Dad?" He turned back from the window, an expression of rapture on his face. Artemis had never seen the boy so… infantile? Yet, he'd never seen his son so _alive_ either. Well, genius or not, aloof or not, Patrick was still a child. Better not forget it, Artemis reminded himself. As Patrick turned back to the window, Artemis allowed himself a small smile. The boy was behaving in a way he would never have behaved like at this age. Still, somehow he didn't mind his son having a childhood – as much as a child prodigy like him could have a real childhood. Come to think of it, Patrick was not just 'half-Artemis' in regard to his genes, he was 'half-Holly' as well, and Artemis had no problem imagining Holly as a fun-loving, vivacious teen. Sometimes she still behaved like that…

Minutes passed and only then did Patrick slump back into his chair and take his eyes off the window when they'd flown into a cloud and nothing could be seen outside but whitish greyness.

"Say, Dad, oops, Artemis, what're the Hungarians like? I haven't exactly studied them…"

"_I_ have," his father replied. "While you were working on the 'watches'."

"Oh. And? What are they like?"

"Hungry, I suppose," Mulch chimed in from behind.

Artemis rolled his eyes at Patrick. "Typical Mulch for you, always thinking with his stomach. But no, Mulch, Hungary has nothing to do with 'hungry', even though people keep misspelling the name of that country. Certainly the country's name comes from the word 'Hun'. Attila and his Huns had settled down there, after all… some say the Hungarians are related to the Huns and that right after Attila's death a few Huns were sent back to their original home to Asia to alert the Hungarians to come and claim Attila's abandoned land as their own, based on their relation to the Huns. Then again, some say the Hungarians aren't in the least related to the Huns. No one so far has managed to prove or refute it. There's a theory saying that the Hungarians came into the Carpathian basin only a few decades after Attila's death, which, according to history books is impossible, as Attila died in 453 A. D. and the Hungarians entered their current home in 896. However, there's that theory about the great calendar forgery…"

"Calendar forgery?" Patrick's eyes widened. "What the heck?"

"According to the supporters of this theory, it was the idea of the Catholic Church to add about three hundred years to their calendar. Pope Gregory XIII in the sixteenth century made his calendar reform _already knowing_ about the forgery. The reformers put about three hundred years into history, and put it into the early middle ages – three hundred years that possibly never existed. If this is true, then Charlemagne was merely made-up and we're practically living in the eighteenth century, not the twenty-first."

"But why would the Church or anyone want to forge history?" Patrick wondered.

"Some say it was at least partly because of the Hungarians," Artemis replied. "They came into the Carpathian basin, conquered the nations who lived around and built a flourishing country. Too flourishing for the Western Europeans' taste. They shared the view that whoever ruled the Carpathian basin, ruled whole Europe. So they decided to take the greatness away from the Hungarians and create a glorious past for themselves. They put over three hundred years between Attila's Huns' time and the Hungarians' arrival to Europe, thus sort of separating the two nations from each other. If the Hungarians arrived to Europe centuries after Attila died, then they couldn't have been related to the great Hun king." Artemis shrugged. "No idea whether anything's true about this, but it's definitely an interesting theory."

"I'd rather say it's spooky," Mulch commented. "Back to Pat's original question, what are the Hungarians like? I've only heard about their goulash so far…"

"Well, as far as I know, they are friendly but pessimistic. But with a history-background like theirs, it's understandable… And they're exceptionally creative folks. The main reason for this is that they live in a transition area. So many nations have mixed in the area of today's Hungary that the Hungarians' genes simply couldn't degenerate - on the contrary. No wonder that they gave an awful lot of Nobel prize winners to the world. Very creative people, really. For example, they discovered vitamin C, they invented the Biro pen, the Rubic cube, not to mention that John Neumann – also a Hungarian – invented the computer. A Hungarian company called Graphisoft is the best in three dimensional modelling… I used their ArchiCAD for designing the Dublin Opera house."

"You used a program developed by someone else?" Patrick raised an eyebrow at his father.

Artemis shook his head with an indulgent smile. "Being a genius doesn't mean you can't use anyone's help, Son. It means you know exactly whose help to use and how."

Patrick nodded silently, turning away from Artemis, pretending to be interested in the endless blue sky over the clouds.

His father berating him, however subtly? That was something new. No one, absolutely no one had ever dared question his expertise and genius in any area before… Well, if there was a person who had any right to lecture him, then it was his father. Perhaps he could even learn something from Artemis the Second… who knows?

However, the Fowl in Patrick was proud enough to feel hurt by the slightly condescending manner in which Artemis had talked him to. Or was it condescending? Wasn't it just merely fatherly? The boy couldn't tell… Then again, up till three months earlier, he had never had a father, how could he know what it was like, then? He could easily be misjudging his father's gestures and his own feelings as well.

The warm-hearted Short in him tried to persuade himself that Artemis had merely reminded him he wasn't old enough yet to be wise, but his Fowl-pride made him withdraw into an invisible cocoon and close his father out for the rest of the journey.

Not even noticing the boy's sudden withdrawal, Artemis buried himself into an _Irish Times_ he had bought at the airport, and Mulch was barely audibly munching on a package of peanuts.

Patrick didn't know how much time had passed until the captain's voice spoke up again: "Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts, we're landing."

As though electrified, the boy pressed his nose to the window once more. The first thing he saw once they'd dropped under the clouds was a patchwork-kilt-like landscape again. Minutes passed, and the patchwork dissolved into tiny gardens, then the gardens were quickly replaced by a sea of downtown houses.

"Nézd, anya, ott az országház!" shouted a child in one of the foremost seats.

Patrick, blessed with the ability of interpreting all languages, had no difficulty understanding that the child has just said 'look mum, there's the parliament!', in Hungarian.

And indeed, as he looked down, he could already see the greyish brown ribbon of the river Danube with the majestic, neo-gothic building of the Hungarian Parliament on its bank. A bit further on the other bank on the hillside stood the Palace of Buda, whose copper-covered dome had long turned green.

"Nice little city, eh?" Mulch whistled.

"Yeah, very nice." The boy nodded eagerly, never taking his eyes off the view outside until they landed on Ferihegy 2.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Budapest, Hungary."

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N2**: I'm sure you're wondering about the calendar forgery. Well, I didn't make it up, it's a theory made up by a few German historians who wrote books on this topic. I don't know the books' titles in English, only the original, German ones. In case you're interested:

Heribert Illig - Klaus Weissberger: Probleme der ungarischen Frühgeschichte (I could translate it as 'Problems with the early history of Hungary)

Uwe Topper: Erfundene Geschichte ('Made-up history')

Another thing you might find interesting: Emese's family name, 'Hunfalvy' means 'someone from the Hun village'. I used to go to a high school named after a guy called János Hunfalvy. I hated that school, so I decided to give Emese (who's obviously a not very nice character) this name.

And now: **be so kind and leave a review!**


	8. Journey to the Past

**A/N: you might have seen it on ffnet's main page that now there's an option to reply to your reviews by clicking on 'reply' in the review board. So, I sent replies to every registered reviewer who commented on chapter 7. I hope you all got my responses. However, it IS now clearly FORBIDDEN to post review responses here in the chapter, so, if you posted an unsigned review on chapter 7, then I couldn't reply to it. I saved the review responses that I wrote to the unsigned reviewers, so if you want me to send you what I wanted to put here, then either submit a signed review this time or put your email addy into the bracket where it belongs and tell me to send you the comments that I'm not allowed to display here. (Unsigned reviewers whom I wanted to respond to in this chapter are: _Queen Dragon, SPG, chocolate smudge _and_ Anonymous_). **

**Since you seemed to like my descriptions about Budapest, I decided to give you a few photos about it – mostly about the Parliament and the Castle of Buda. I linked them into my ffnet bio and they will remain there for a few weeks/months (in case you're reading this fic months after I published it and the links are no longer in my bio, feel free to email me for Budapest photos).**

**Also thanks to those who reviewed but whom I couldn't write anything 'interesting' as a response:_ frenchpiment, Fleury, Trouble Kelp, The OddBird, Chaos Ritual, Lii, PoweroftheFrogs, MissEcoFreakTheDarkPrecursor, Epsilon2Delta (nice seeing you again!), flyyydreamgrl - _I value all of you, even if you only write 'hey, nice chapter, keep it coming!'**

**Chapter 8**

**Journey to the Past**

"To the Western Railway Station, please," Artemis said after he, Patrick and Mulch had taken their seats in a taxi at Ferihegy 2, Budapest's airport.

As soon as he had got his suitcase at the luggage claim, Artemis had fished a translator out of it and inserted it into his left ear; and since the tiny contraption worked both ways, not only did he understand everything that people of different nations said, but the taxi driver too understood every word he said in English, and believed him to be a born Hungarian.

After a ride on a rather bumpy track of motorway, the taxi arrived in the downtown of Budapest.

"Could you drive us across one of the bridges?" Patrick asked. "I'd love to see that view again, it seemed beautiful from the plane's window."

"I could, young man, but it would cost you loads more," the driver replied, "as the airport and the Western Railway Station are both in Pest. If I drove you over to Buda and then back to Pest, then…"

"Money does not matter," Artemis cut in. "And we have two hours before our train's departure. If my little brother wants to see the city panorama, then let him have it. You choose the bridge, but make sure you choose the one from where we get the best view."

"As you wish, sir," the driver replied, shocked. He had been living off taxi driving for seventeen years, but no one yet had been willing to pay him more than necessary just to have an opportunity for some sightseeing. At first sight he'd thought these three were foreigners, but they were speaking flawlessly in Hungarian, so they couldn't be foreigners, could they? They must be entrepreneurs, as only those and the politicians got rich enough here to spend more than necessary, the driver established. "Er… may I ask which part of the country you come from?" he asked after a few minutes of silent driving. "I assume you're _not_ from Budapest…"

"True, we've never been to Budapest before, well, only once when we travelled to the airport to fly to Ireland," Artemis replied. "We're from Szeged, by the way."

"Oh, Szeged? My aunt lives there," the driver replied as the taxi drove over the Margaret Bridge. "There, you have it, young man. The loveliest view of Budapest you can get from a bridge. 'Course you could get an even better view from the Fisherman's Bastion or the Palace of Buda… That's the Chain bridge over there, the oldest of all. The Parliament… I expect you've seen that on TV at least, that's where all the bigheads gather to figure out how to lower our living standards even more… They and their big ideas! Especially the Euro, oh my gosh! One will never get used to it! Last year we still had the Forints, this year we have the Euros, and one goes mad by converting them in the head! Of course the bigheads in the Parliament said it was necessary, and how wonderful it is that we finally met the conv… convwhatsis criteria…"

"Maastricht convergence criteria," Artemis said in a bored voice.

The driver kept complaining (typical Hungarian mentality, Artemis noted to himself) for the rest of the journey that was thankfully only a few minutes as the Margaret Bridge was quite close to the Western Railway Station.

Artemis paid for the journey and the passengers quickly lifted their only suitcase out of the taxi's boot. All three of them were glad to be able to say farewell to their over-talkative driver.

o o o O O O o o o

_Fowl Manor, Ireland_

"Cesare, how nice to see you!" Artemis the First greeted his friend with a forced smile. Normally he would have been indeed happy to see his old school mate, but with the whole Holly-kidnapping and his son leaving, he was too nervous to feel happy about anything.

"Thank you, Tim." The Italian man shook hands with the lord of Fowl Manor. "I hoped I wouldn't be disturbing the lovebirds if I turned up here for a little chat…"

"The lovebirds? Oh, Artemis and Holly," Fowl Senior said somewhat shakily.

Mr. Cavalieri's face darkened. "Are you all right, Tim? You look pale."

"Oh, nothing." Artemis the First waved and forced the smile to return to his face. "Just tired. Couldn't sleep all night. Must be the full moon…"

"Ah, I see. So, how're the newlyweds doing?"

"Fine, thank you," Mr Fowl replied. At that moment he felt an inexplicable urge to correct himself and tell Cesare everything about the kidnap, but he remembered that his son had wanted to keep it a secret, for Holly's sake. Not that he couldn't trust Cesare, of course not, he told himself, but still, Arty had wanted to keep it from everyone who's not part of the family. He hadn't even told his parents the details, only that he was to leave for Hungary… And well, that wasn't something he had to keep from others, was it? "They are doing wonderfully. Though my son has recently left for Hungary." Artemis the First shrugged.

"Hungary?" Cesare's eyes flashed for a second, but his friend didn't notice.

"Yes, some urgent business trip."

"And doesn't the charming Holly miss him on their honeymoon?" Cesare asked benignly.

"Yes, she surely misses him, but she's very understanding."

"A nice little housewife, eh?" The Italian man chuckled.

"Well, not exactly… actually, quite far from it. Holly used to be working for the Police before she hooked up with my son. She was a police officer, even. Well, my Arty has always had weird taste…" Fowl Senior laughed, but anyone could have noticed how forced that laugh was. "But she's a wonderful girl, really, I couldn't wish for a nicer mate for my son. Actually, if I didn't have Angie, I would probably fall for her too," he added with a wink.

"No wonder, she's pretty and clever. She speaks… how many languages exactly?" Cavalieri wondered. "I remember her mentioning it when I first met her to sign the employment contract, but I can't recall the number."

"Somewhere around fifteen, I'd say," his friend replied thoughtfully. As his eyes met Cesare's, he had a strange feeling. A feeling of déjà vu. As if he had talked to his friend about Holly once before… but when? And where? And what had he told him? No matter how he racked his brains, he couldn't remember.

o o o O O O o o o

_On the way from Budapest to Szeged_

"So, where exactly are we going from here?" Mulch asked Artemis on the train. For the journey's duration Artemis had removed the translator from his ear and the trio kept changing languages from English to German, from French to Italian, hoping that the other passengers wouldn't understand it. They had to resort to this measure, as the train they had taken apparently had no compartments, only wagons full of seats. No privacy at all, not to mention the torn covers of the seats and the graffiti all over the walls…

"Szeged," Artemis replied. "A fairly big town in southern Hungary. Allegedly Attila had his camp somewhere around that place."

"And how will we travel back in time if we don't know the exact date of Attila's death?" Patrick wondered. "Or do we?"

"No." His father shook his head. "According to history books, Attila died in spring of 453, so we are going to travel back to say, May 1st, 453, and find out whether he's dead already or not. If yes, then we go back a few more weeks in time, if not, then we stay there and find his camp."

"And what are we going to do with that?" The dwarf pointed at their suitcase. "I doubt we could take that back in time and tell the Huns that it's the latest Irish satchel design…"

"Simple: leave it in the hotel room," Artemis said. "And by the way, _Mulcius_, we _aren't_ Irish thus we can't be coming from Hibernia. We come from Britannia that has been rudely colonised by the evil Roman Empire. Patrick – _Patricius_ - and I are two brothers on our way to Thracia were Honoria, my bride-to-be, the daughter of a rich merchant is awaiting me to marry her and take her to my homeland. We are taking you as a gift to my future father-in-law-"

"Yeah, 'course," Mulch grunted.

"…and we are seeking temporary accommodation in the great Hun king's camp, as my little brother has fallen ill and since the evil Romans took our horses from us, we cannot continue the journey if we don't rest for a few days," Artemis explained and the dwarf started to chuckle. "What's so funny, Mulch?"

"Noooothing, Arty, I just imagined you riding a horse…"

Patrick stifled a giggle too as his eyes met Mulch's. His father would surely die of horror if he even had to go near a horse, let alone ride it… Juliet had once told him about the 'gecko incident' in the Mexican jungle, and if Artemis could be so frightened of a little lizard like that, then Patrick couldn't help but laugh when imagining how Artemis would react to something as big as a horse. He could see in his mind's eyes as his father started to lecture everyone who would listen that horses were unclean, spread various illnesses and carried ticks. Explain the Lyme Disease to the Huns, they would surely appreciate it a lot…

"So, back to the original topic, we leave the suitcase in the hotel room and hope that we can come back just in time before the hotel's staff notice that the residents of that room are missing," the dwarf concluded. "I just hope that the hotel rooms are better than the trains… I've been to several horrible places before, but this train is undoubtedly beneath contempt."

"And imagine that the poor Hungarians have to travel with it day by day…" Patrick wrinkled his nose. "They have all my sympathy."

o o o O O O o o o

_Underground fairy colony, 453 A. D._

"I seriously don't understand you, Alexius!"

"No surprise here, you've never understood me, Rufus," came the bored reply.

"But you _know_ what I'm talking about this time, don't you?"

Alexius heaved a sigh. "I expect you're referring to my fiancée, dear cousin."

"Exactly!" the elf named Rufus snapped. "You can't be serious about marrying that… that… Mud Man-loving wench!"

"Hold your tongue!" Alexius snapped.

"No, Cousin, I won't hold my tongue as long as you don't realise what a huge mistake you're about to make! That girl is a shamed one, Alex! She lost her fairy honour when she started consorting with the Mud People! She's practically living in their camp and is probably hopelessly smitten with that king Attila or who…!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Alexius said darkly. "She's just a freedom-loving creature, but she's not evil, and for your information, only a few people at this colony know that she's living above ground and being friendly with the humans. We could keep it silent after I marry her… after all, I don't intend to live here all my life… the city that those gnomes are building is almost ready for the People to start moving in. What's its name again? Haven or something?"

"Yeah," Rufus grunted. "So, you'd be willing to leave this colony and settle down in Haven just because people there don't know that your fiancée is a bitch?"

"One more comment like that and…"

"And what? You're going to beat your only cousin? Alex, Alex…" Rufus shook his head. "You're too young and rash to judge things properly. True that your father and hers had promised you two to each other when you were mere children, but that promise doesn't bind you. It binds _her_, but not _you._ You could break it any time, and that's exactly what you should do! You shouldn't have anything to do with a fairy who rebels against her folk and parades in the Huns' camp all the time! Even if you managed to force her to marry you, what kind of wife would she be, huh? A wife who'd keep longing to leave you all her life and return to her beloved human king?"

"She doesn't love that-" Alexius protested, but Rufus carried on vehemently:

"…or a wife whom people who live here now and who happen to move to Haven would recognise and start pointing at, calling her a traitorous little trollop and calling _you_ an idiot because you decided to marry someone like her? Is that what you want?"

The younger of the two heaved a sigh.

"Oh, I see," his cousin said in a derisive tone. "You've fallen in love with her. Holy Frond, Cousin, you've only seen her once, how can you know she's good enough for you then?"

"True, I've only seen her once, and that wasn't enough to establish that she _isn't_ good enough for me!" Alexius riposted. "And just to let you know, she was very kind to me, not a bit hostile, even though she had every reason to hate me, the evil elf who's about to rob her of her freedom. She was polite and nice. And sad. But not rebellious. She told me how much she detested the marriage law and how much she loved the aboveground nature. She was being honest, Cousin. Honest and so innocent…"

Rufus rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I bet she did everything in her power to make you feel pity for her and let her go. I bet she even cried... Judging by your expression, she did. That little wench is an excellent actress, and she was manipulating you, Alex. She knew well that if she'd been hostile and rebellious, then you would have regarded taking her a challenge and you would have risen to it. But seeing a crying, pathetic girl would move the most cold-hearted elves too, and she was hoping to wake pangs of remorse in you… Hoping to make you break your promise and give her her freedom back. So why not do it, Alex, if that's what she wants? She doesn't want you!"

"But she will," Alex replied seriously. "She's the purest, most wonderful girl I've ever known, and I will fight for her love. And if I fail, then I will release her, but not until then."

"Knowing you, little cousin, you will never give up," Rufus snorted. "Apparently I'm wasting my time here because you aren't willing to listen to the voice of reason. Good-bye, Alex."

o o o O O O o o o

_A hotel room in Szeged, 4 p.m., 15th July, 2016 A.D._

"Hey, this looks cool!" Patrick whistled admiringly as he twirled around in front of a full-length mirror. He was wearing a greyish blue set of clothes that consisted of a tunic and something that slightly resembled a pair of trousers. The 'golden' buckle on his belt was definitely fake, but looked just as nice as the real thing. "I look a bit like Robin Hood, right, Dad? I mean… _Brother_?"

"Robin Hood in blue, of course," Artemis replied with a sarcastic grimace and turned his attention to his own attire. He was wearing a mustard-coloured tunic and burgundy trousers with a belt and buckle made apparently of silver. Juliet had even added a funny-looking cap to Artemis's attire that made him feel like a complete idiot, but he had to admit that it at least fit the other pieces of his clothing. Apparently Juliet hadn't found any boots that looked ancient enough and had painted two pairs of Wellington boots black for Artemis and Patrick. Hopefully the Huns wouldn't ask what kind of material it was made of, or they would have trouble explaining what rubber exactly was.

It was the dwarf's attire that Juliet had paid the least attention to: it seemed that she'd just visited a children's clothes boutique and bought a simple-looking coat and a pair of duck trousers that she painted an ugly shade of maroon. No boots, no belt, no cap. After all, a servant didn't need fancy clothing, did he? All that Juliet did for the dwarf's comfort was to create a bum-flap on the trousers' back.

"I think you two look funny enough," Mulch said cheerfully, arranging the things they wanted to take back in time in an old-looking satchel, covering them with a camfoil inside the satchel and sealing it with a rusty-looking clasp.

"I feel like someone who's about to play in a Shakespeare drama," Artemis grunted, fishing a thin necklace out of the pocket of his suit.

"What's that for?" Patrick asked.

"Obviously, if I'm about to get engaged to fair Honoria of Thracia, I can't be wearing a wedding ring already, can I?" his father asked, pulling his golden ring off his finger and attaching it on the necklace.

"But you can't part with it, eh?" The boy arched an eyebrow at him as he slipped the necklace around his neck and hid the 'medallion' in his tunic. "You're getting sentimental, Big Brother."

"You're getting cheeky, little brother," Artemis replied, inserting the translator into his ear. "And apparently our kleptomaniac friend is really enjoying our bantering…"

Mulch indeed barely could hide his mirth as he pulled the satchel on his shoulder. "You two strongly remind me of an old married couple…"

"Holly and I've been quarrelling ever since we know each other, and Patrick has inherited a lot of his mother's temper, that must be the reason," Artemis said with the shadow of a smile on his face. "Gentlemen, let's set our time-machines to 1st May, 453. Ready? Well, then, let's go."

The three of them pushed the 'travel' button on their 'watches', and in the next instant they were gone.

o o o O O O o o o

_The forest where Szeged stands today, 1st May, 453. A.D. _

"Lovely place, isn't it?" Mulch said as he looked around. The time machine brought them to a small clearing covered with a thick carpet of daisies. Nearby a creek cascaded down a few rocks, winding its way into the thickets and disappearing from view behind a few eglantine bushes.

"Yes, lovely," Artemis replied, "too bad that all this beauty might be ruined in a few years… I mean, in a few years from _our time_."

"What are you talking about, Da… Bro?" Patrick asked, bending over the creek to splash a bit of water on his face.

"Rosia Montana," young Fowl said sullenly.

"Rose what?" The dwarf blinked.

"Rosia Montana is a tiny village in Transylvania, not far from here, just over the Hungarian-Rumanian border. That is to say, the border that exists in 2016."

"And what's up with that village?"

"A Canadian company wants to exploit the golden reserves that are in the mountains around the village. They would need to use cyan technology to get the gold out of the rock, and it would kill the ecosystem around there and would endanger Szeged and its surroundings as well. Not to mention that the Rosia Montana Gold Corporation has been buying out the estates in the village – psychological warfare against the remaining villagers. They think that if the villagers see that most houses around them are sold and bear the script 'owned by the Rosia Montana Gold Corporation', they will feel a need to sell their homes as well, and finally the Canadians will own the whole place and start the newest eco-disaster."

"Sounds bad enough…" Patrick said contemplatively. "You know, Dad, it's kind of weird to hear you defending a little Transylvanian village against a gold mining company… after all, isn't gold power?"

Artemis gave his son a sour smile. "It is… and it isn't. I can no longer decide. I think I've just changed too much recently. I've always despised those who pollute the environment, but profit always used to be the first, more important than anything…"

"But you've changed for the better." Patrick laid a hand on his father's shoulder with an encouraging smile.

"Have I?" Artemis asked bitterly, turning away from the boy. For Patrick, there was no need to ask what Artemis had referred to.

"Did you hear that?" Mulch asked all of a sudden.

"What?"

"That tinny sort of sound. Listen!"

Artemis and Patrick perked up their ears, and in a minute they too could hear what Mulch had heard much earlier.

"What could it be?" the boy wondered.

"Sounds an awfully lot like armoured people marching," Artemis said. "Probably Romans… but they aren't supposed to be here, so near to Attila's residence… they're afraid of the Hun King, after all… Attila defeated them too many times to earn their fear and respect."

"Let's have a look, shall we?" Diggums beckoned to the other two, and the trio crossed the clearing, fought their way across the thick undergrowth and in a few minutes arrived at the edge of the forest.

"As I told you, Roman legions," Artemis established. "Curious, most curious…"

Before Patrick could have asked 'what's curious?', the Roman who was riding at the front spotted them and galloped over to them. "Hey, you, peasants, is this the right way to Aquincum?"

"Where?" Patrick frowned.

"Aquincum, peasant, the county town of Pannonia Inferior," the Roman, who seemed to be a tribune, replied haughtily.

"First, we aren't peasants, second, we have absolutely no idea where this Aquincum is," the boy snapped.

"Patricius!" Artemis glowered at him, then turned to the tribune. "Excuse my little brother, oh defender of the Great Roman Empire, he's too young and thoughtless. As far as I know, Aquincum is in the north, so you're heading in the right direction."

The soldier's eyes narrowed. "I don't know why I should believe you… Pannonia is full of no-good swindlers, even the Emperor said the people in this land cannot be trusted..."

"With all due respect, sir, why are you asking us if you don't believe us?" Artemis said. "And why would Emperor Theodosius not trust the people of this land?"

"Theodosius?" The tribune furrowed his brows, though it was mostly hidden by his helmet. "I've never heard of an Emperor Theodosius."

"No?" Artemis blinked. "Then… then who's the emperor?"

"You lowly, mangy dogs, you don't even know who rules the world?" the Roman hissed.

"I'd say Bill Gates," Mulch chimed in.

"His majesty," the Roman began, "the divine Antonius Pius, who is favoured by Jupiter, the greatest god of all-"

"Antonius Pius?" Artemis gasped. "Damn it!"

"What?" Patrick whispered, not having the slightest idea what his father was so upset about.

"We came back too many years in time," Artemis whispered back.

"What…?"

"You three look very suspicious to me," the tribune grunted and beckoned to a few soldiers behind him. "Seize them!"

o o o O O O o o o

_Cesare Cavalieri's Manor near Kilkenny, 2016. A.D._

Holly was losing track of time. How long had she been living in this golden cage? Six days? Seven? Perhaps she should have started drawing lines on the wall every day, but she didn't even have a pen or pencil for that purpose.

Never in her life had she felt so bored before.

She couldn't have complained about the comfort: the apartment she was enclosed in had an enormous bed and an elegant bathroom. She got excellent meals three times a day and Emese had once even brought her a stack of magazines to read. However, by now she had read every word in every magazine (mostly women's magazines that she found downright ridiculous – what could human females find so interesting about fashion and movie stars?). So, the only pastime she could make up for her own entertainment was lying down, closing her eyes and reliving the best moments of her life.

_Her mother whom she'd known only for a few years; her father telling her fairy tales; Commander Root shouting at her (she had to grin at the memory); Artemis kidnapping her; her punching Artemis in the face (she couldn't help but giggle); herself giving Artemis a coin; Artemis grabbing her and jerking her to himself on the weight-sensitive doormat of Spiro's lab; the 'birth' of her son; the first time Patrick uttered 'computer'; Artemis entering her room wearing nothing but a towel (big sigh); Artemis cradling her in his arms after the jaguar attack; Artemis looking wide-eyed at her as he spotted her in her human form; their first night together (an even bigger sigh); Artemis staring incredibly at the pair of tiny shoes; Artemis slipping the golden ring on her finger…_

How she missed Artemis! How she missed her son, and Julius, and Foaly, and even Mulch… Would she ever see them again? Sometimes she was full of optimism (_Patrick's a genius and Artemis is still good at plotting, they will find a way_), but sometimes she caught herself almost completely giving up hope. How could they find a fairy who lived so long ago? It seemed impossible, even for a genius.

If only she could use her magic, she would long ago have mesmerised the crap out of Emese and all the guards and escaped from here! But no, she couldn't risk the baby's health…

The first night she'd spent as a prisoner, she had decided to remove the annoying crinoline and had even torn about five inches of lace from the bottom of her skirt to allow her to move more easily. The pretty wedding dress was ruined, and Holly's heart ached for it, but no one could expect her to spend a week in a hoop skirt. She couldn't understand how the ladies in the nineteenth century could bear to wear it for more than a few hours. Unfortunately Emese didn't seem to notice what a bad shape Holly's dress was in, so she didn't deign to bring the captive something simpler to wear, and Holly decided she wouldn't complain. She wouldn't give that bitch the pleasure of seeing her uncomfortable. She was a L.E.P. commander, after all, she could bear anything.

o o o O O O o o o

_Pannonia, near today's Szeged, 453 A.D. – or is it?_

"What?" Artemis, Patrick and Mulch gasped in unison.

The tribune's lips tucked into a sneer. "You'll do well as slaves, or if you train a bit, lanky man, you can even make gladiator. Be thankful for your fortune!"

o o o O O O o o o

"Good that you designed rather un-aesthetic watches, Arty, or I would have needed to steal those back too," Mulch grunted as he dusted pieces of dirt off his trousers. He had just arrived back underground to the tiny tent they were kept prisoner in. "Here's your belts." He threw the apparently gold and silver belts to Artemis and Patrick.

"They didn't notice you I hope?" Artemis asked.

"Not to worry, oh, great gladiator, Artemis Maximus!" the dwarf waved, grinning. "If old Mulch doesn't want the stupid Romans to notice him, then the stupid Romans don't notice him. By the way, when are we going to leave?"

"Yeah, when, Dad?" Patrick interjected. "We should have escaped as soon as they put us in this tent. All it takes is setting our watches to… to…"

"See, not even you are sure what year we should set our watches to," his father replied darkly.

"But how's this possible, Dad? Er… Bro. How come we came back _too many_ _years_ in time? We set our watches to 453, but this year seems to be… which one, exactly?"

"I'd say around 150…" Artemis replied.

"Then your famous time machines are faulty, Arty," Mulch commented.

"Are not." The young man shook his head. "They just work in a way that… well, I'll try to explain."

"Do try, perhaps even my lesser mind will understand," the dwarf said sarcastically.

Ignoring the sarcasm in Diggums' voice, Artemis continued: "The time machine calculates the amount of time needed to go back from 2016 to 453. That's 1563 years. The time machines did take us back 1563 years in time… but we didn't end up in 453, but, very likely, in 156. You know what this means?"

"That history has indeed been forged," Patrick concluded.

"Right." Artemis nodded. "According to the theory I mentioned to you on the plane, 297 years were added to history and the year we came from isn't 2016 but only 1719. The time machines were programmed to believe it was 2016 as their designers too thought it was 2016. And since the machines only do the maths, they can't jump over a period of time that never existed."

"Sounds horribly complicated," Mulch said. "But of course I understand it!" he added quickly. "And what shall we do now?"

"Obviously set our watches to 750, A.D., if we want to get to the year of Attila's death," Patrick said. Seeing the dwarf's confused face, he sighed. "453 plus 297 equals 750. The time machine thinks we're in 453, so if we want to get to 453, we have to go to year 750."

"Oh," Mulch said. "That's really confusing."

"You're not the only one confused here." Artemis shrugged. "Right then, gentlemen, let's set our time machines to 1st May, 750. Done? On the count of three, then. One, two, three…"

o o o O O O o o o

_Cesare Cavalieri's Manor near Kilkenny, 2016 A.D._

Silently ladling the broth Emese had brought her, Holly tried to ignore the other woman's unabashed stare. But she couldn't do it for long.

"What?" Holly looked up. "Haven't you seen a girl eat her soup before?"

"I've seen girls eating their soup, but not a fairy, you know," Emese replied in an amused voice.

Holly resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"By the way," the other spoke up again, "I've got news for you."

"News? You've found the fairy in question?" Holly frowned.

"No, not yet, but I bet your dear husband's going to find out soon."

"What makes you think so?"

"He must have a lead… a lead that led him and your little nephew to Hungary."

"Hungary?" Holly put the spoon down. "What're they doing in Hungary? And how do you know they're there?"

"As to your first question: I don't know for sure, but a genius like your husband must have gone there for a reason. After all, Attila's grave _is_ somewhere in Hungary… Second: I have my sources of information, dear."

"You don't mean you have spies at Fowl Manor?" The fairy's eyes narrowed.

Emese just smiled back at her.

"No…" Holly shook her head. "That's impossible. Neither my father-in-law nor my mother-in-law would give out our secrets, and Butler and Juliet are trustworthy too… Besides that we only have a bio-gardener but he only turns up once a week…"

Emese continue smirking cruelly.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" Holly hissed.

"Tremendously, dear, tremendously." With that Emese scooped up Holly's half-eaten supper and left.

Watching the woman's receding figure, Holly felt an irresistible urge to jump up from the sofa and give her a kick in the arse or better knock her out completely… but no use, outside the door two guards were standing, she'd heard them talking with Emese. And no matter how good a fighter she was, she couldn't have taken on two Butler-sized humans, especially in her condition.

Her hands clenched into fists, Holly quenched her desire to do bodily harm to her captor. There would come a day when she'd have an opportunity for that, she swore, wondering why on Earth Artemis had gone to Hungary…

o o o O O O o o o

_1st May, 453 – for real this time_

"Are you sure we're in the right place at the right time now?" Mulch asked, looking around. They were on a bigger clearing, the same one where the Romans had pitched camp in 156. This time, however, there were no Romans around. The place seemed derelict, save for a single man riding a horse. That man was definitely not a Roman.

"A Hun, I presume?" Patrick wondered, watching as the lonely rider approached.

"Seems savage enough." Artemis shrugged. The man indeed looked savage, especially because he had some deep and ugly gashes on his cheeks – gashes that must have been cut only a few days earlier as they seemed quite new. "Let's ask him." He waved to catch the rider's attention.

The man galloped over to them.

"Greetings," Artemis said.

The Hun only nodded with a morose expression.

"I, my brother and our servant are en route to Thracia and we're tired. My little brother is even sick…"

Patrick produced a few fake coughs.

"…and we're seeking refuge with Attila of whose heroism we have heard legends-"

Artemis couldn't even finish, because the Hun silenced him with a wave of his hand. "You might be tired and sick, travellers, but the one you're seeking refuge with no longer exits."

"What? Attila – dead?" Artemis pretended to be shocked. Now at least he understood why the rider had those ugly gashes on his face - the Huns had a peculiar custom: if someone they loved and held in great esteem died, they cut their faces in their grief.

The scarred Hun nodded sullenly. "The greatest king ever is no more. His soul has joined the Lord of Wars and his body is resting in sunlight, moonlight and dark night."

"Huh?" Mulch frowned. He'd never liked metaphors.

"And when… when did he die?" Artemis asked.

"The sun has risen and set fourteen times since," the rider replied. With that, he spurred his horse and rid away.

"Wasn't too talkative, was he?" Patrick said.

"No, but he told us just enough to know where we need to go," his father answered.

"Two weeks back in time?" Mulch guessed.

"Let's make it three, just to be safe."

"Oookay, Arty… By the way, what was that load of trash about sunlight, moonlight and dark night?"

"According to the legends, when Attila died, the greatest shaman of the Huns, Torda, had a white horse sacrificed to be able to find out from Lord of Wars where Attila's grave should be built. Lord of Wars told him to bury Attila in bright sunlight, pale moonlight and dark night. It was a metaphor for the famous triple coffin. The outer coffin was made of iron – that was dark. The middle coffin was made of silver – the moon is silver. The inner coffin was pure gold, resembling sunlight."

"Wow, you have really read up on the Huns and the Hungarians, Dad," Patrick said admiringly.

Artemis shot him a wry look. "If you don't have your genius to fall back on, you should at least be informed. Being a genius is a wonderful thing, but knowledge too is power."

_Do you really mean that, Dad?_ The boy thought, but decided not to comment.

o o o O O O o o o

_10th April, 453 A.D._

"So, are we at the right time at last?" Mulch wondered, rubbing his rumbling stomach. "I'm getting too hungry to continue jumping back and forth in time any longer… Do you mind if I eat the remaining Mars bar? Or are you saving it for the Huns?"

"Yes, of course it would be very wise to give them Mars bars when they've never heard of chocolate," Artemis replied coldly, checking the tiny screen on his 'watch' then closing the lid over it. He had designed the time machines to have a lid that hides the screen and the miniscule buttons, because this way they looked like rather cheap and ugly armlets, but as no one saw red numbers vibrating on them, no one would be suspicious.

"Well, one thing's sure: we're at least in the same place," Patrick commented. They were standing on the same nondescript clearing where the Romans had had their camp in the past and where they had met the grieving Hun in the future.

"So, then all we've gotta do is fin' the Huns, eh?" the dwarf said through a mouthful of Mars.

In that instant a dozen arrows swished above them (nearly missing Artemis's head), and a bunch of horsemen burst into the clearing.

"I think we have found them," Patrick established.

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N:** in case you're wondering whether I got Rufus' name from HBP (Rufus Scrimgeour), then my answer is no. I made up Rufus-the-elf shortly before I read HBP and I found it most amusing that the new Minister of Magic too was a Rufus…

For those who might have found the name 'Pest' funny: it has absolutely nothing to do with the English word 'pest'. It is pronounced as 'Pesht', not 'pest'. Also, we do not have the Euro yet, our currency is still the Forint, but this story is taking place in 2016 and I assume we're going to have the Euro by then.

**And something different… It took me _nine months_ to write this fanfic – so I consider it my 'baby' in both senses. It only takes you _one minute_ (or less) to review. One minute, not nine months… consider this, and review, please. Reviews inspire me to update quicker, never forget that!**


	9. In Attila's Camp

**A/N: first of all: I did not want to hurt the feelings of any Canadian readers, but it's the truth that it's a Canadian company that is about to cause an eco-disaster in Rumania. Certainly I don't think anything bad of the Canadian people in general. There are greedy companies in every country, in Hungary, in Canada, absolutely everywhere. I just learned about this particular case at an environment protection course at the university and since Artemis seems such a huge fan of environment protection, I thought I'd make him mention it. It seemed in-character for him.**

**I replied everyone whom I could or whom I felt necessary to reply, through the new ffnet PM.**

**Also thanks to: _septempopuli, I Am The Krow, hello, J. Dawnwolf, christieelise, hogwartscharmed1, AmethystPhoenix11, ebtwisty9, AnnieThePipster, The Flying Moose, Mockingbirdflyaway, Queen Dragon, aperfectattitude, Zodokai, ustechygurl, blondevil, Chris-Crossed, Mousewolf, Chixawitch, SPG, refloc, Kerry, an-angel-in-hell, Fleury, obsessed4life_**

**Chapter 9**

**In Attila's Camp**

"Why did you want to meet me so urgently?" Fiona asked her fiancé, barely hiding her annoyance. After their first meetings she hadn't expected to see him for another few months, and now here he was again…

They were sitting under a beech tree, behind a thick wall of shrubbery, hidden from possibly curious Mud Man eyes.

Alexius tentatively reached out and took her hand, then heaved a sigh. "I had to see you and… tell you to be careful."

"Careful?" She arched a reddish eyebrow at him. She was surprised enough by the fact that she didn't find his holding her hand unpleasant, and now this serious tone he's talking to her in…

"Yes, Fiona. You need to take care, because…"

She thought she was almost enjoying his embarrassment. If she looked more carefully, she had to admit that embarrassment made his features look downright cute. Not that that made her want to marry him, not in the least… she loved Attila. Attila and no one else. Even if that love was forbidden and impossible. The Hun king would never love her back, she knew that well. She had been friends with him for over ten years now, and he had never ever shown any signs that he might have romantic feelings for her. On the contrary. One year after they met, Attila married a German princess called Krimhilda. Not long ago he'd lost his first wife Réka, and now he was about to get married again, to some princess from Bactria, a girl so young that she could easily be his daughter… Sighing inwardly, Fiona willed herself to take her mind off Attila and listen to Alexius. "Because of what?" she asked challengingly.

"Because my relatives don't like you," came the young elf's simple reply.

"They don't like me?" She frowned.

Her fiancé nodded. "My cousin Rufus is against me marrying you. I bet his parents are of the same opinion. They think you're too… _liberal-minded_ to fit into the family."

"Too liberal-minded?" she echoed his words. "You mean, they think I'm a traitorous bitch for consorting with the Mud People."

Alexius took a deep breath, as if gathering his courage to reply, and finally nodded. "Exactly. And that's why you need to be careful. They will try to thwart this marriage, even by… by…"

"…killing me?"

"I wouldn't put it past Rufus," the male elf said darkly. "They are so proud of the family name, they don't want to have someone soil it…"

"And do _you_?" Fiona asked sharply.

Alexius tightened his grip on her hand. "I don't mind what they say. I don't mind if people find out that you are friends with Mud Men… I don't give a damn about the whole thing, I just want to marry you."

"Even if your family's pride gets ruined because of me? Even if the rest of your family turns on you?"

"Yes."

"But why?" she sighed. "Why, Alexius?"

"Don't you understand? I love you, Fiona."

The girl ripped her hand out of his and jumped up from the grass. "Love me? You're telling me you love me? Holy Frond, Alexius, how can you love me when you don't even _know_ me?"

"I fell in love with you the first time I saw you…" he whispered, also rising to his feet.

A sarcastic grimace spread on her face. "Love at first sight? Hah. Don't make me laugh! You fell for a pretty face, nothing else! You don't know what I'm like, you don't know my temper, for all you know, I could make our married life a living hell!"

"Then give me time to get to know you," he replied gently. "True, I fell for your beauty, but I'd like to get to know the inner Fiona as well. Give me a chance."

"And what if you don't like the inner Fiona?" she asked, looking direct into his eyes.

"Then I'll force myself to fall out of love with her and let her go," he said.

She had to admit that she couldn't see anything but sincerity in his eyes. Those murky brown eyes were radiating warmth and gentleness and a longing to get to know her better. Why not give him the chance? Especially now that Attila's about to get married – again?

For a second Fiona felt a hypocrite. She'd been accusing Alexius for having fallen for her pretty face, but if she thought back, she remembered that she'd done the same. Seeing Attila once was enough for her to fall in love with him, before she even knew what kind of a person he was. Did she have a right to condemn this fairy then? No.

"All right then, Alexius. Let's try to get to know each other better."

A grateful smile appeared on his face. "Thank you, Fiona. I'll do everything in my power not to disappoint you. And please, take care of yourself."

o o o O O O o o o

Artemis held his breath as the Huns burst into the clearing and noticed them. What was next? Would the Huns kill them without asking anything? _Were_ the Huns aiming for them at all?

His unspoken questions got answered as one of the horsemen held out his hand to stop the others and galloped over to the travellers alone.

"You look terrified," he said with a concerned expression. "I hope none of you got injured in our little game…"

"Game?" Patrick echoed the Hun's words.

"Yes, game." The horseman, who seemed to be around Artemis' age, shrugged. "My little brother Aladár and I were competing with our friends. You know, that 'who-can-shoot-his-arrow-further' sort of game." He looked around, searching for the arrows. Some of them were embedded into the bark of nearby trees, some were half-hidden in bushes. One thing that they had in common was that the feathers at their ends were painted in bright colours, clearly to help the archers find their own arrows once they'd shot them. "There, that's mine." The horseman pointed at an arrow with red fletch. "Yours went quite far too, Aladár," he said, turning to a boy one or two years older than Patrick. "Not a bad shot for someone your age."

"Of course not," Aladár replied haughtily, spurring his horse to join his brother's. "I _am_ Attila's son too, remember?"

"Of course, of course," his brother laughed, gently patting the youngster on the head (which the youngster took with a rather resentful expression), then he turned back to Artemis, Patrick and Mulch. "I'm sorry if we scared you; we just love shooting, even if we don't exactly see _where_ we're shooting," he said with a wink. "I'm Csaba, by the way, Attila's eldest son. Who are you and what are you doing in our land?"

Artemis shot Patrick a meaningful glance, and Patrick immediately bent slightly and produced a few fake coughs.

"My name is Artemis Faulus," Artemis told the Hun prince, "and this is my little brother Patricius. Oh, and that's our servant, Mulcius," he added with slight contempt in his voice, not even glancing at the dwarf. "We're coming from Britannia-"

"Britannia? Where's that?" Aladár interjected.

"Don't tell me you don't know where Britannia is," Patrick said in his usual know-it-all voice, then he suddenly realised he was supposed to be playing the invalid, and quickly coughed. "So… sorry… I just thought…"

"He just thought everyone knew where Britannia was," Artemis cut in. "Don't be mad at him please, he just thinks he's cleverer than the rest and loves to show off. As for Britannia, it's a big island, far to the west, near the coast of Gallia. You know where Gallia is…?"

"I've heard about it." Csaba nodded, but judging by Aladár's expression, _he_ had never heard of it. "And what brings you here from the far Britannia, Artemis Faulus?"

"I and my little brother were en route to Thracia, where my bride-to-be is awaiting me to take her back to my homeland. However, a week ago a troop of Roman deserters attacked us and took our horses… it was a wonder they didn't take our lives as well… We have been travelling by foot ever since, but Patricius has fallen ill and I don't think we could continue our journey without a few days of rest…"

"Never worry, Artemis Faulus, you can get accommodation and food in my father's camp," Csaba said benignly. "I'm inviting you to the wedding as well."

"What wedding?" Artemis asked with a surprised expression, pretending he didn't know Attila was supposed to die on his wedding night…

"My father, King of the Huns is going to marry fair Mikolt in six days," Csaba announced brightly.

"Don't pretend you're actually happy about it," Aladár commented with a sour expression.

"It's only you who's mad about it," Csaba said, "you, and your mother… I bet she filled your head with Mikolt-hating stories already…"

"You're just jealous because my mother's still alive while yours isn't!" Aladár snapped.

Csaba stiffened and his face darkened. Seeing his dark expression, his young brother cringed. "Sorry, I didn't mean it…"

"I know you didn't," Csaba sighed. "And I know it's not easy for you to see Father marrying someone when he already has your mother for a wife. Believe me, I felt the same when Father married your mother: I knew it must be horrible for _my mother_, and I felt with her. Now I feel with Krimhilda. But chin up, little brother, your mother will always be regarded as the queen of the Huns, no matter how many wives Father takes in the future."

"I truly hope so," Aladár said defiantly. "And I hope this Mikolt is the last wife he takes."

_Your wish shall be granted_, Artemis thought, feeling a slight twinge at his heart that he identified as pangs of remorse. He, his son and Mulch knew that Attila was to die in a few days, but they couldn't tell anyone, because that would mean interfering with the course of events, and they weren't here to change history. If they accidentally changed something, it would result in a catastrophe, Artemis was aware of that.

"For once I agree with you, little brother." Csaba patted Aladár on the shoulder and turned back to Artemis. "If your brother's too tired to continue walking, he can sit behind me."

"On your horse, sir?" Patrick gaped.

"Obviously." Csaba smiled and bent down, holding out his hand for Patrick to take. The boy glanced at his father, and Artemis nodded his consent, so Patrick took the Hun prince's hand and got lifted into the saddle.

"Will you walk behind us, Artemis Faulus, or would you like to ride with Aladár or one of our men?"

A look of horror flashed across the Irishman's face at the prospect of riding a horse, even if only being a pillion passenger. "No, thank you, I shall walk."

Ignoring Mulch's half-stifled chuckles, Artemis followed the Huns who tried to gallop slow enough so that he and the dwarf could keep up.

o o o O O O o o o

Arriving into the Huns' camp, Artemis suddenly had the feeling that he'd entered the camp of some travelling circus. There were tents in all colours and all sizes as long as the eye could see; warriors in richly embroidered clothes riding horses or leading them by the reins; a man teaching a group of male children how to use a sword; female children helping their mothers carry the laundry; and endless sea of people – and not only Huns. Artemis spotted a few men who wore garments after the Byzantine fashion and also some he suspected to be German or Visigoth, judging by their pale complexions.

As they reached the imaginary centre of the camp, the Irishman saw the biggest tent ever towering over them. It was enormous, bigger than any circus tent he had ever seen – 'king sized' was the best expression he could have used to describe it with. And after all, it did belong to a king. The king of the Huns.

Before the tent Csaba dismounted his horse and helped Patrick off the saddle.

"You can come in with me, Artemis Faulus, I'm going to introduce you to my father," Csaba said. "But I have to warn you that it might not go quick… it's audience day, and father's having loads of guests and underlings visiting this day. You'll have to wait for your turn. Until then Aladár can show your brother your accommodation and the boy can lie down if he's not feeling well. Aladár," he turned to his young brother, "take Patricius Faulus to the empty tent on the northern end of the camp."

"The blue one?" the younger prince asked.

"Exactly."

With a sour expression Aladár nodded. Anyone could see that he didn't like being ordered around by his brother and that he wasn't charmed by the idea of giving the grand tour to this snot-nosed 'Brit'. His lips pressed firmly together, the young prince helped Patrick into the saddle behind him, then spurred his horse and rode in the northern direction.

Artemis watched Aladár take his son away, and for a second he felt worry clench at his heart. Had he done the right thing in bringing the boy here? What would Holly say if something happened to her little son? At the thought of Holly he felt a lump rise in his throat. If they didn't manage to accomplish their plans, he might never see her again, and then she wouldn't have a chance to be mad at him for taking their son on this possibly dangerous mission. He swallowed to make the lump disappear. They had come back in time and they had entered the camp of Huns. _Alea yachta est_. The dice had been cast. Taking a deep breath, he followed Prince Csaba into Attila's royal tent.

o o o O O O o o o

"Are you really sick?" Aladár asked Patrick as he dismounted his steed before a tent made of some dark blue material.

"Yes, why are you asking?" Patrick said as he carefully slid off the horse.

The young prince shrugged. "If we were in the Pilis, you could drink from the Well of the Fairy Lady… or not. I keep forgetting that the well dried out last year. Too bad."

"Why, what is it like? I mean, what _was_ it like? And what's Pilis?"

"Pilis is a mountain range in the north," Aladár replied in a voice that suggested 'every-idiot-should-know-this'. "Father used to take me and Csaba hunting there. He loves that place for some reason…" Aladár entered the tent, followed by Patrick. "There was this well with magic healing powers. It was said to have the power to restore health and abilities and… well, possibly anything. Warriors who got injured in battles drank from the well's water and were healthy in an instant. Women who couldn't bear children drank from it and soon got pregnant. Seer of Stars – our greatest shaman - told me a legend about another shaman who'd lost his Sight and then drank from the well and he got his Sight back. Weird, huh?"

"Yeah, weird," Patrick agreed. "Nice tent, by the way. Looks really comfortable, thank you."

"Don't thank me, thank Csaba." Aladár waved irritably.

Patrick had the feeling that the other boy had some serious inferiority complex and hated living in his older brother's shadow.

"Anyway, he could have given you a nicer tent," the prince carried on with a belittling expression, "there are loads of vacant tents closer to the centre of the camp, but no, he had to choose the one that is possibly the farthest from the centre… well, only the fairy's tent is further to the north…"

"The _fairy_'s tent?" Patrick gasped.

"Yeah." Aladár shrugged. "That one." He pointed at a tent made of dark green material, only fifty feet to the left.

"I see… but… a fairy? What the heck?" Patrick pressed. He wanted to know everything he could find out from the Hun prince.

"I don't know what 'heck' is. Anyway, no idea if she's a fairy for real or not," Aladár said in a slightly sarcastic voice. "Some say she is, some say she isn't. She's a weird little creature for sure. Has those funny pointy ears… Her name's Fiona, by the way."

"Fiona? Nice name." Patrick sat down and produced a few fake coughs. "I think I need to rest now. Thank you for taking me here, Aladár."

"To you I'm _Prince_ Aladár," the other boy said and marched out of the tent.

Rolling his eyes, Patrick stretched on the cot. It was so pathetic when a child so young tried to look so important… _But haven't you done the same?_ – his Short-self asked him.

_Eh, no. I wasn't **trying **to look important… I **am** important_, his Fowl-self replied to himself, and with a satisfied grin, he closed his eyes and immediately fell asleep.

o o o O O O o o o

Attila's gigantic tent looked just as pompous on the inside as it had on the outside. Its burgundy hangings were held together by golden sheets and its pure gold pillars were covered with precious stones.

Csaba had been right to say that Artemis would have to wait a 'bit' before he could talk to Attila in person, as the tent was teeming with people of all ranks and origins. Most of them were standing in the queue, waiting for their turn, but some of them were sitting on thick, colourful carpets, facing the huge, carved wooden chair in which the king sat.

To Artemis's surprise, the 'throne' seemed quite out of place, compared to the rest of the glamorous tent – it had no golden décor, no gems, nothing whatsoever – not even a squashy cushion for Attila to sit on. It seemed as Spartan as it could be, and Artemis couldn't imagine it to be very comfortable. However, the Hun king didn't show any signs of feeling uncomfortable and despite his simple clothing, he looked as regal as one could be.

Hour after hour passed and Artemis started to become impatient, not to mention that standing at the same spot for a long time always gave him a backache. Mulch, next to him, kept fidgeting and Artemis could see the dwarf's desire to nick a few things from the people around. "Don't – touch – anything," the Irishman murmured to his kleptomaniac companion every ten minutes.

Finally their wait was over, and Csaba, who'd been standing next to his father's throne since their arrival, beckoned to Artemis to come forward.

"Stay behind me," young Fowl told Mulch as quietly as possible and walked down the red carpet towards the throne.

With every step he took he felt more and more amazed by the leader of the Huns. From where he had stood for hours he hadn't seen much of Attila, but now he had a chance to make thorough observations.

The man sitting on the throne seemed to be in his thirties, although Artemis suspected that he could rather be in his early forties – after all, Csaba was around twenty five, and it wasn't too likely that Attila had had a child at the age of fourteen _like him_… The king's youthful face was framed by a black beard and black hair that hang over his shoulders in braids, adorned by several tiny pearls. Those pearls were the only part of his appearance that gave him the air of a king, as the rest of his attire seemed far from royal. He wore dark blue velvet robes devoid of any jewels or embroidery. He looked elegant, but had he not been sitting on the throne, Artemis would have easily mistaken him for a nobleman of a lower rank. During his wait Artemis had seen several Huns and non-Huns wearing more pompous clothes than the king himself.

About five feet from the throne, the Irishman stopped and bowed. Upon straightening his back again, his glance fell upon a sword hanging from Attila's belt. He had seen many wonderful weapons in museums, but none that rivalled this one.

Attila returned his greeting with a friendly nod. "Welcome, Artemis Faulus. My son says you're coming from the far Britannia…"

"Indeed, your majesty," Artemis replied. "I, my little brother Patricius, and our servant Mulcius had been en route to Thracia when a group of Romans attacked us, not far from the borders of your kingdom. They stole our horses and our valuable possessions… barely left us anything to keep going. My brother is rather sickly and the long walk and malnourishment took their toll on him. Your son has gracefully placed a tent at our disposal and I expect Patricius is resting already. All I ask of you, great king, is to let us stay in your camp for a few days, a week at most, until my brother gathers enough strength to continue our journey."

"So be it," Attila said with a benign smile. "And while you're here, you can tell me about your home, Britannia. For example, right at tonight's party. You are invited to take part in the feast, and if your brother feels up to it, he can join too."

"And the servant?" Mulch grunted, but thankfully the king couldn't hear him, and Artemis, as inconspicuously as he could, stepped on the dwarf's foot to shut him up.

"Thank you for your kindness, your majesty."

Csaba waved to Artemis to move, signalling that his audience was over. He bowed and headed for the exit.

"The _servant_'s not invited, eh?" Mulch huffed as they stepped out into the sunlight, blinking after the considerably darker inside of the tent.

"Servants are usually not invited to royal balls… or perhaps Attila just couldn't stand the stench of your sunscreen." Artemis shrugged. "And next time try not to mutter such things in the king's presence."

"And next time try not to tread on my foot, Mud Boy," the dwarf grunted.

"Sorry about that, I had no choice. You could easily have discredited me in front of the king."

"Ehm… yeah. Sorry," said the dwarf without really looking sorry. "So, what's next?"

"Next we find our tent and Patrick, then we can start searching for our mysterious fairy lady."

o o o O O O o o o

_Cesare Cavalieri's Manor near Kilkenny, 15th July, 2016_

Holly opened her eyes, feeling dizzy. Looking around she established that she was still in the room where that accursed Emese had imprisoned her. Suddenly she heard people talking outside the door.

What had happened? She tried to remember, but all she could recall was having felt giddy right after Emese had brought her her dinner, then… nothing.

_I must have fainted_, she decided. Stupid pregnancy symptoms!

"…and what if her husband doesn't get back in time?" someone – presumably one of the guards – asked outside the door.

"I'm giving Fowl a few more days," Emese's ice-cold voice replied. "He must have figured something out, otherwise he wouldn't have left for Hungary. He knows something, and I'm giving him the chance to share it with us. I'm going to send him an email, telling him that I'm aware of his departure and that he's getting three more days. After that…"

"What, milady?" the guard asked.

"After that he's going to get little presents from us… like, his wife's little finger in a jewellery box…" the woman said with a tone that suggested she was smiling. Holly could well imagine her cruel smile.

The fairy shuddered. Could that beast mean what she was saying? Losing her thumb in the Arctic had been bad enough, but then Artemis had been there to use his famous brains and reattach it… now Artemis was far away and his famous brains no longer worked as they used to…

"And until then?" another male voice – very likely that of the other guard – asked.

"Until then we keep our precious prisoner safe and sound," Emese replied. "I'll bring her smelling salts, that might bring her around."

Steps echoed on the corridor, signalling that the woman left.

Slowly, Holly sat up, rubbing her temples to clear her mind. Of one thing she was sure, no way would she let Emese or her gorillas chop any of her bodyparts off. But what could she do? Escape? Fat chance… Guards were standing on every corner around the building, she'd seen them when looking out the window…

But wait a minute! Guards were patrolling _outside_ the building…

If she had a little luck, then only the door of her apartment was heavily guarded and the rest of the corridors were not teeming with these gorillas. If she managed to get to the front door, she might be able to escape… After all, if Emese had a little sense, she had commanded the gorillas to guard the _backside_ of the building as Holly's room was situated there… No one would expect her to be bold enough to walk out the front door, would they? Now, if her theory was right, all she had to do was get past the two guards standing at her door…

Holly heaved a sigh. At her current state she couldn't stand a chance to fight two Butler-sized men and knock them out… She had to find another way. But there was no other way, only through the window…

She again heard steps that indicated Emese's arrival. Quickly she slumped back onto the bed, pretending to be unconscious. And once Emese had 'brought her around', she'd pretend to be extremely weak… no need to let the enemy know that she was fit enough for a breakout… Come to think of it, _was_ she fit enough? She couldn't tell.

o o o O O O o o o

_Attila's camp, 453 A.D._

"So, you're saying that our fairy is living in the neighbouring tent?" Artemis said incredulously.

"Exactly." His son nodded. "At least, that's what Aladár said. I mean, _Prince_ Aladár…" He allowed himself a sarcastic grimace.

"I see you don't like him too much…" Artemis perceived. "Weird boy that's for sure."

"Weird? I'd say megalomaniac," Patrick replied. "I wouldn't be surprised if in a few years he'd be trying to kill his own brother for the throne…"

"As a matter of fact, he _will be_ fighting Csaba for the throne. It's all over the history books. Aladár defeats Csaba but dies of his injuries. Csaba flees and one year after Attila's death the Hun Empire falls to pieces."

"But at least our little megalomaniac never gets to be king," Patrick commented with a satisfied look. "Not that I want him to die, but-"

"Would you look at that," Mulch said suddenly, beckoning to his companions. Father and son stepped to their tent's entrance to see what the dwarf was staring at so intently.

A tiny figure had just exited the dark green tent to the left and headed out of the camp. They couldn't see it well from this distance, but it was obvious enough that its hair was auburn, like that of most elves.

"If we manage to catch up with her now, we could talk to her," Artemis said.

"And what will we tell her?" Mulch frowned. "That we come from one thousand and five hundred years in the future?"

"Obviously not." Patrick shook his head. "First we have to start some conversation with her, about… something… anything… to gain her trust. Right, Dad?"

"Right." Artemis nodded. "Let's follow her and pretend that we were just sightseeing, exploring the surroundings of the camp or something…"

"As you wish, boss," Mulch replied exiting the tent, and almost ran into Prince Csaba.

"Ah, Artemis Faulus!" The prince waved, completely ignoring the 'servant'. "I've come for you to show you to the tent where the feast is going to take place."

"So early?" The Irishman blinked. "It's not even dark yet…"

"True, but my father instructed me to take you to the head table, and if you arrive any later, you might not get through the crowd to your reserved places."

"Reserved places?" Patrick gave his father an amused look.

"Exactly." Csaba nodded cheerfully. "You are to sit next to my father."

"_Next to_ Attila?" Artemis gasped. "But… why? I mean, it's a great honour, but why would the king of Huns want us, poor travellers to sit next to him?"

"My father's curious." The prince shrugged. "He loves to hear stories about far away lands and unfamiliar customs. Come, follow me."

"Great," Patrick whispered to Artemis, "we have to make up all sorts of things about Britannia now. Or do you know everything about Britannia in the fifth century?"

"Hardly. A few things, of course, but by far not enough," young Fowl admitted. "Well, you're the brains of the family… be as creative as you can. I shall occasionally add a 'yeah' and an 'uhum'."

"That will be a big help." Patrick grimaced.

o o o O O O o o o

Upon entering the tent where the feast was to be held, Artemis established that this tent was almost as big as the one where Attila had had the audience. The tent was packed with long tables and the tables were covered with golden plates and goblets.

A few seats were occupied already, but the ones at the head table were still vacant.

As Csaba led Artemis and Patrick (Mulch lagging behind them) to the head table, a woman entered the tent through another 'door'. She had an immense amount of jewellery hanging from her neck, arms and woven into her light blonde hair.

"That's, my step mother, Krimhilda," Csaba whispered to Artemis.

"Aladár's mother?" Patrick asked. The prince nodded.

"Is she German?" Artemis wondered.

"Yeah, and therefore good friends with Detre… that man over there," Csaba said. Krimhilda was animatedly chatting with a man around fifty, fifty-five years. "He's German too, and sort of an advisor to Father."

"He has a shifty look about him," Patrick murmured.

"I don't like him either," Csaba admitted, stopping by the head table. "This is Father's place." He pointed at a chair slightly bigger than the rest. "You are to sit on his left, as Krimhilda's sitting on his right. Oh, and either send your jester out or tell him to stay away from the tables."

"Tell him to stay away from the tables," Mulch grunted as the prince left. "I'm beginning to dislike this servant role a lot, Arty."

"Sorry Mulch. You couldn't have passed for our uncle," Artemis said with an indulgent smile and took the seat reserved for him.

About an hour must have passed since they'd entered the tent and guests kept arriving in a swirl of colourful clothes and sparkling jewellery.

Krimhilda took her place two seats to Artemis's right and soon another young woman sat down on her right. Upon spotting the young woman, a sour expression spread on the queen's face, and that was enough for Artemis to assume that the newcomer was the king's bride-to-be. She had chestnut-coloured hair and huge, innocent brown eyes. She wore considerably less jewellery than Krimhilda and overall gave the impression of being a shy, withdrawn person.

One of the last to arrive was Attila himself. As he appeared in the entrance, everyone in the tent rose to their feet, so Artemis and Patrick followed suit.

The king walked up to his seat, waved at the guests, signalling that they may sit down, and took a place himself.

Artemis couldn't help noticing that while all tableware was gold, Attila alone had a wooden plate and wooden goblet.

The feast began, and the king immediately turned to his 'British' guests, asking them about their homeland, just as Csaba had predicted.

"…and well, there's Stonehenge, an enormous circle of stones… some say it had once been used as an observatory, but some say it was built by fairies…" Patrick forced a laugh as if thinking that the mere idea of the fairies' existence was ridiculous.

"What is an obser… observ…" Attila began as the final guest, a tiny girl, arrived, almost half an hour late. "Ah, Fiona's here." He waved at the late-comer and pointed at a vacant seat not far from his – obviously it had been reserved for her only.

The tiny female sent the king a radiant smile and took her seat.

"So, what's an obser-whatsis?" Attila asked again, but neither of his British guests was listening – they were staring at Fiona with their mouths agape.

"What?" Artemis shuddered, taking his eyes off the fairy and forcing himself to concentrate on the king. "Oh. Observatory. That's a place from where you can watch the stars."

"Then the whole world is an observatory, isn't it?" Attila smiled. "You can watch the stars from anywhere: from a hilltop, from a clearing, and even in the thickest forest you can catch a glimpse of a few stars through the foliage… I must admit I have a liking for watching them, especially the Route of Armies."

"The Route of Armies?" Patrick blinked.

"That long, white ribbon that stretches across the night sky," Attila explained.

"Oh, I see. In my home we call it the Milky Way," commented Artemis, his glance returning to the fairy who seemed to be enjoying her meal a lot.

"I see you have developed an interest in Fiona, Artemis Faulus," the king said with a knowing smile. "I'm not surprised, she has that effect on everyone. Simply charming girl, isn't she?"

"Yes, charming." Young Fowl nodded, his eyes never leaving the fairy's face. Those cherubic lips, those huge, hazel eyes…

He felt his son nudge him, and he reluctantly turned away from Fiona to focus his attention on the king once again.

"You have good taste, Artemis Faulus," Attila said, "you developed an interest in two of the prettiest things ever: Fiona and my sword." Seeing Artemis's shocked expression, he chuckled. "Yes, I noticed you staring at my sword at the reception, and I'm not blaming you for it, it's undoubtedly the finest sword ever made. A magic sword."

"Magic, your majesty?" Artemis raised an eyebrow at the king.

"Indeed." Attila smiled. "There is a legend saying that-"

"Oh, Attila, don't start that again," Krimhilda's indignant voice spoke up. "Everyone's heard that story a hundred times already!"

"But I haven't," Artemis said, "and I'm curious. You too, aren't you, Patricius?"

"Yes, brother." Patrick nodded eagerly. "I'm all ears, your majesty."

"So…" The king drew himself up with a smug smile. He had told this tale to various guests approximately fifty times already, but he never got bored of it (only his usual table partners did). "So, there's a legend saying that Lord of Wars once made a magic sword. The one who would bear this sword would conquer the world. One night, in my dream, I had a vision that showed me wielding this sword. The same day a little shepherd boy came to me and told me a wondrous story. He had noticed that one of his heifers had injured its leg. He followed the blood traces back to an eglantine bush where he saw a piece of iron standing out of the ground. He decided to pull the metal out of the ground so that it wouldn't injure any other animal's legs. As he touched the metal, it suddenly spread purple flames and started to emerge from the ground, sparkling in the sunshine. It was the sword that was destined to be mine – The Sword of God." Attila gently patted the sword hanging from his belt. "It has served me well so far. This wonderful piece of iron and me have been invincible ever since."

"That is wonderful," Artemis said, trying to look as amazed as possible – even though he would rather have watched the fairy at the neighbouring table.

Noticing his father's stolen glances at Fiona, Patrick decided to take things into his hand. That is to say, he faked an almost-faint.

"Patrick…sius!" Artemis gasped as his son's head slumped over the table. "Oh, I'm incredibly sorry, your majesty, apparently my little brother hasn't yet gathered enough strength, he needs to rest more… if you don't mind, I'd take him back to our tent now."

"Do so, Artemis Faulus." Attila nodded. "I shall send one of my shamans over to your place to see what he can do for the boy."

"Ooooh, no, not necessary." the Irishman shook his head as he scooped Patrick's body up. "He's just tired, all he needs is a good rest…"

"As you wish." The king shrugged. "But never hesitate to tell me if you need the shaman's help. Or mine."

"I won't." Artemis bowed slightly, as much as he could with his son in his arms. "Mulcius, come on, help me!"

Mulch, who had been sitting on the ground behind Artemis, hopped up and pretended to help carry the child.

As soon as they were out of the tent, Patrick opened his eyes. "You can put me down now."

"Glad to hear," Artemis grunted, sweating profusely despite the relative coolness of the April night. He wasn't used to carrying forty kilos. "And now tell me, what was this show good for?"

"I thought it was obvious," Patrick replied in a 'know-it-all' voice. "I freed you from Attila and now we can go back to the tent, wait for Fiona and talk to her. We could pretend to be stargazing or something and as she arrives, greet her and tell her we saw her at the party and since we're neighbours…"

"I know, I know." Artemis waved irritably. "Smalltalk, all right. Let's just hope that she isn't staying at the feast all night… I'm sleepy."

"So am I…" Mulch yawned, then suddenly stiffened. Something glinted among the bushes. Something that looked like moonlight reflecting off metal. The dwarf nudged Artemis and pointed at the bush. The glinting thing had disappeared.

"What?" Artemis strained his eyes but couldn't see anything.

"I'd say someone's hiding there. With a piece of metal. Possibly something sharp."

"An assassin?" Patrick whispered, suddenly feeling adrenaline rush through his veins.

"Dunno." Mulch shrugged. "I might have been imagining things…"

"Do you think that the assassin noticed us?" Patrick asked, entering the tent, followed by the others.

"He must have," Artemis said. "But he mustn't know that we spotted him."

"Who do you think he's trying to kill?" Patrick gulped. "Us or…"

"Fiona?" Artemis finished the boy's sentence. "Don't know, Son. But we can't possibly have enemies here… yet. We just arrived."

"That sounds logical." The little genius nodded. "But why would anyone want to kill that fairy?"

Artemis shook his head. "No idea… but one thing's sure: we can't let that happen."

"Isn't that meddling with time, Arty?" Mulch asked, munching on something that looked a horribly lot like a handful of worms.

Not wanting to know where and when the dwarf had collected those worms, Artemis peeked through a thin slit on the hangings that functioned as the door of the tent. "I don't think so, Mulch. After all, according to the kidnapper, this fairy had witnessed Attila's funeral. So obviously she must have survived…"

"…and saving her life would be the beginning of a wonderful friendship, not to mention that she'd immediately trust us," Mulch concluded. "Right, let's do it."

"Do what exactly?" Patrick whispered. "Do you have a plan, Dad?"

"No. For the time being we stay here, pretend to have gone to sleep, and keep a lookout."

"Ooookay…" the boy sighed.

"Patrick?…"

"Yes?"

"About Fiona…"

"Yes?"

"Did you notice…?"

"What?" The boy deliberately looked away, even though his father couldn't have properly seen his features in the dark. Of course he knew what Artemis was hinting at…

"…That she looks a lot like…"

"Shhh!" Mulch hushed them, waving to signal that something was happening outside. All three of them peeked through the slit, holding their breaths.

The moon illuminated the clearing enough for them to see a tiny girl with long, flowing red hair walk deliberately towards the adjacent tent. She seemed deep in thought, her eyes fixed on the ground as she walked, not noticing anything of her surroundings. And that was what the assassin decided to use against her.

The bush shuddered as he crept out of it, towards the fairy who had almost entered her tent, her back turned on him.

It was now or never.

Artemis, Mulch and Patrick lunged forward.

Hearing a thump and a muffled yell, the fairy swirled around, her huge hazel eyes widening in surprise as she spotted Attila's 'British' guests in a very undignified, moaning heap just a few feet from the entrance of her tent.

"Don't worry, Lady, we got him," the elder of the two young men got off the others, swiping his clothes with a suffering expression (as much as Fiona could tell in the semi-darkness).

"Who?" She frowned.

"This tiny guy who wanted to kill you, Lady," the shortest of the Brits grunted, pointing at something beneath him. To Fiona, he looked pretty much like a fairy dwarf… how strange.

"Kill me?" she breathed. "What are you talking about?"

"Ask _him_," the youngest one suggested, helping the 'dwarf' to keep the assassin on the ground.

Though somewhat hesitantly, not being able to decide whom to trust and whom to believe, Fiona approached them. At a closer look she could immediately tell that the person pressed to the ground _was_ a fairy. A gnome, to be exact. But what was a gnome doing here? And why would he want to kill her? Then it dawned on her. _Be careful, Fiona_ – Alexius's words echoed in her mind.

"Who are you?" she demanded from the gnome.

The gnome moaned and shook his head.

"Talk," the elder of the Brits said, holding the gnome's own dagger at his throat. "Speak or die."

"Sp… speak…" the subdued fairy muttered, his eyes focused on the sharp point of the dagger. "I was… I was just doing my job. I was… hi...hired."

"Told you, a petty assassin," the young boy said.

"Who hired you?" his brother hissed, still pointing the dagger at the gnome's throat.

"Dunno… honestly… my bosses never tell me their full names…" the fairy whined.

"Then tell us anything you know about him. Describe his looks, for example."

"Well… an elf…" the assassin wheezed. "And… and there was another elf who called him Rufus… I know nothing more… Will you… will you release me now? Pleeeeease?"

The black-haired man shot Fiona a questioning glance, and she nodded. "Let him go. He won't dare come back," she sighed.

"And what shall I tell my boss now?" the gnome groaned.

"Nothing," the older brother said. "Don't tell him you failed… don't even let him see you. Hide. And most important of all: start a new life. Become a farmer or something."

"A farmer… yes. Certainly." The gnome trembled from head to toe as he got up. "Well, then…"

One second he was there, in the next one he disappeared.

"Well, that's settled, then." The younger of the two men said.

_Settled?_ Fiona blinked. Weren't the black-haired man and his brother supposed to be surprised at seeing someone disappear into thin air just like that? That was _more than_ strange…

"You need to be more careful in the future, Lady. That Rufus might send other assassins if he finds out this one failed," the dark-haired human said. "Perhaps ask for a guard from the king. He seems to be fond of you enough to provide you with one…"

"I can't let Attila know that someone's out there to kill me," she whispered. "No need to worry him. But thank you for saving me. How… how come you managed it… just in time?"

"Oh, we were just about to exit our tent to breath some fresh air when we saw you approaching and a dark figure approaching you," the red-headed child answered. "The little bloke seemed to be carrying something sharp, so we thought it was dangerous and acted on instinct."

"Yes… my leg still aches," his brother agreed, massaging his left shin. In the process of lunging at the assassin he must have hurt himself.

"By the way," the dwarf-look-a-like spoke up, "who's that Rufus who'd like to see you dead?"

"Rufus Short," Fiona sighed. "My fiancé's cousin. Not one of the Shorts want me in the family… not one but Alexius. Well, thank you once more…?"

"A…Artemis," the young man said, realising that she was expecting him to introduce himself. "Artemis Faulus. This is my brother Patricius, and our servant, Mulcius."

"Fiona." She stretched out her hand to shake his. "Fiona Springwater. Pleasure to meet you."

With a final, warm smile on her face, she disappeared into her tent, leaving Artemis dumbstruck outside.

"Short?" he whispered to Patrick.

The boy nodded mutely, heading for their tent. "You know, when… when I realised that Mum had lied to me about my parentage, I made a little family tree research…" At the entrance of their tent he stopped and turned around to look at his father. "There was one Alexius Short who married one Fiona Springwater. They had a son called Justus Short who married one Iris Winter, and they had one single daughter."

"Holly Short, I presume?" Artemis breathed.

"Right." Patrick nodded. "Fiona here is my great-grandmother."

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N:** I bet some of you have expected something like this… Review, please!


	10. The Runaway Bride

**A/N: this is the first chapter in which my Star Wars mania appears, and from now on it will appear on a regular basis. Grin and bear it.**

**To those (especially dear _Anonymous_) who submit unsigned reviews and don't give me their email addies: due to ffnet's restrictions, I can't reply to your reviews, so please, just put your email addy into the email address bracket and then you'll get review responses.**

**Also thanks to: _septempopuli, Mousewolf, iccy, __PeanutButterOreoCookieGirl, Chixawitch, aperfectattitude, ebtwisty9, Queen Dragon, The Flying Moose, SPG, J. Dawnwolf, Rebel Rose, obsessed4life, an-angel-in-hell, I Am The Krow, refloc, Marissa the Scamp, Epsilon2Delta, The OddBird, Fleury, Chibi Binasu-chan, AutumnBreeze25, AprilEchidna (been missing you!), Fudge1_**

**Oh, and someone (I no longer remember who) asked the name of the Canadian company that wants to exploit the gold reserves in Rumania. I finally found it: Rosia Montana Gold Corporation.**

**Chapter 10**

**The Runaway Bride**

"…Fiona here is my great-grandmother."

"Tell you what, I'm not a bit surprised," Mulch commented as he and Patrick entered their tent, followed by the dumbstruck Artemis. "I mean, look at her. She's the spitting image of Holly – correction, Holly's the spitting image of _her_, and she's bold enough to live in a human camp and be friends with humans. At least we know where Holly inherited that from…"

Artemis nodded mutely, incapable of forming coherent sentences. He just dropped himself on the cot and stared at the ground that was covered with thick, warm carpets.

"You know… I think I finally understand that fairy tale," Patrick said all of a sudden, lighting a candle.

"What fairy tale?" Mulch munched on a few worms.

Even Artemis raised his head to look at the boy. "Fairy tale?" he asked.

"Well, apparently more than that." His son shrugged. "Mum used to tell me that it was a tale passed down within the Short family and no one knew its origins, but now _I _do. This tale is about a fairy princess who was to be married to a fairy prince whom she didn't love and whom she hadn't even met before. She rebelled against the unwanted marriage, fled aboveground and met a human king there. She lived happily in the human king's court for years until she was finally forced to meet her husband-to-be. The prince fell in love with her at first sight. It turned out that only the fairy prince wanted her but the rest of his family did not want this marriage, because the princess had been… so to say, corrupted by the humans. The prince, however, was so much in love that he didn't listen to his family and insisted on marrying the princess. To prevent the marriage, the rest of the prince's family conspired and wanted to have the princess killed. But they failed, because some heroic humans saved her."

"Heroic humans?" Artemis's eyes widened. "You don't mean… _us_?"

"Who else?" Patrick grinned. "So, the humans and the princess became friends. The rest of the prince's family died in a rather unfortunate way a day after they had sent an assassin at the princess – there was a heavy downpour and the underground brooks overflowed, and made their home collapse upon them. Her human friends persuaded the princess that she'd be happy with the prince if she only gave it a chance, and finally she got married to him and even fell in love with him." Patrick heaved a sigh. "I know, a pretty lame tale, but as a small kid I used to enjoy listening to it. And of course Mum could tell it in a much more exciting way… I was just keeping to the facts."

"The facts?" Artemis raised an eyebrow at him. "So are we supposed to persuade Fiona to marry this… Alexius or who?"

"Apparently we have to… as _we already did_," Patrick answered.

"Now, wait a minute," Mulch interrupted. "This means that if we hadn't come back in time then Fiona would never have married Alex and Holly would never have been born and _you_ would never have been born, boy? But if you hadn't been born, then how could you have come back and…? Sweet stinkworms, I'm totally confused."

"You're not alone," Artemis murmured. "Can you explain this, Son?"

The boy shook his head. "Not even genii can understand everything… Even I thought that such a thing could _not_ be possible when I read _The Prisoner of Azkaban_…"

"That Harry Potter book?"

"Yeah. Remember that Harry thought his father had conjured the Patronus that chased the Dementors away… but it had been him, not his father. And then he realised that he could actually conjure a perfect Patronus because he had already seen himself doing it… Don't look at me like that, I'm not mad. I thought that J. K. Rowling was, but… now I no longer think so. Time is a weird thing, that's for sure."

"Weird… and dangerous," Artemis muttered, just to himself. "Better not mess with it…"

"We _are not_ messing with it, Dad," Patrick reasoned. "We just… let things happen and keep our eyes open."

"But how can we know what we must do and what we mustn't if we don't want to change history?" Artemis frowned.

The boy shrugged. "I think as long as we keep great-grandma alive and persuade her to marry great-grandpa, we can do anything we like."

Though Artemis couldn't share his son's optimism, he nodded. "Oh, and Patrick? I trust this Fiona isn't alive in our time, is she?"

"Unfortunately no." Young Short shook his head. "Were she alive, we could return to our time and ask her where Attila was buried… but, as far as I remember, she died twenty-something years before Mum was born."

"Too bad… it would have been most convenient," Mulch commented. "But life's never that easy, eh, boys?"

Suddenly there was a thunderclap so loud that it made the very ground shudder.

"See, the storm's here," Patrick said calmly. "In a few hours Rufus and his parents will be dead, and Alexius will be the only Short left, free to marry Fiona at his will."

Artemis made a grimace. "You know, your stoicism scares me."

"Does it?" The boy arched at eyebrow at his father. "I thought I inherited that from _you_."

"And that you did," Mulch agreed, but his words were barely audible thanks to the second almighty thunderclap. In ten minutes the storm was raging, and it was a wonder that their tent didn't collapse on them.

_Well, at least we don't have to worry that Rufus might send other assassins after Fiona_, Artemis thought as the rain rattling on the tent's covers lulled him into sleep.

o o o O O O o o o

_Cesare Cavalieri's Manor near Kilkenny, eleven p.m., 15th July, 2016_

Darkness for three minutes. A flash of light. Darkness for three minutes. A flash of light. Again three minutes of darkness…

Holly kept staring at the clock on the wall, checking and double-checking the time interval between two flashes. The giant searchlight in the garden kept scanning the backside of the building all night, and every three minutes it reached Holly's window.

Three minutes… that wasn't much, but if she was in luck, she could perhaps make it.

Thankfully Emese and her employer (as Holly was sure that Emese _wasn't_ the mastermind behind her kidnapping) had forgotten to install hidden cameras into her room – or perhaps they just thought the room to be safe enough to render cameras superfluous. Foaly or Opal Koboi wouldn't have been so careless, Holly thought with a satisfied smirk.

She wiped her forehead – she hadn't even started her planned escape, and she was sweating already. Well, no wonder, it must have been at least thirty Celsius degrees in the room. The backside of the house looked in the western direction, and it had got sun all afternoon, heating the bricks that were now radiating their heat into the building itself. Naturally, Holly, being a fairy, was more used to hot places than humans so she didn't suffer from the heat. However, if she was right, then the occupants of other rooms must have opened their windows to let the relative coolness of the night air in.

She reached down and tore at her skirt that was still too long to let her move freely. If only she had some scissors or a knife… but no, Emese had been careful enough not to leave any possibly dangerous objects around for the 'prisoner' to use. After a few minutes of fervent tugging, the dress gave at the seams and Holly managed to get rid of another eight or nine inches of cloth. Now her skirt was short enough to let her do gymnastics, but it reminded her an awful lot of the white-and-pink dress of Cinderella after her evil stepsisters had torn it to pieces. Oh well, Holly wasn't going to the ball, after all… And if she made it, then at least she'd have something to tell to her little daughter when they are watching Disney's Cinderella together…

At this thought, Holly's lips tucked into a smile. "Everything's going to be all right, my sweet," she whispered to her flat stomach. "Trust Mummy."

Taking a deep breath, Holly opened the window and climbed through it, then shut it as much as she could from the outside.

The searchlight had just left her window, and she stepped out onto the ledge. It was thankfully wide enough to let her move on it, even though she had to flatten her back against the outer wall of the house.

She had never had acrophobia – had she had it, then she wouldn't have been allowed into the LEP; but now she couldn't help feeling insecure. Her heart was hammering in her throat as she sidled to the right, forcing herself not to look down.

There was movement in the garden – presumably the guards patrolling; but Holly decided to ignore them and focus her attention on the ledge and moving deliberately to her right. One step, another… adrenaline rushed through her veins, and despite the seriousness of her situation, she suddenly realised that she was feeling at her element. She had been 'grounded' long enough at Fowl Manor – not that she really minded it – and doing something dangerous for a change felt almost exhilarating. She felt Holly Short again – Captain/Commander Holly Short, the imperturbable 'LEP chick'.

Something that slightly resembled shame clenched at her heart for a second – she wasn't _supposed to_ feel excited about this – she was supposed to fear for the safety of her child instead… But she couldn't help it – old habits die hard, and Holly Short had always been a fairy who craved excitement. Without excitement, her life would have been boring and pointless… It had been utterly boring during the one week of her captivity, but now it was everything but boring. _I should have tried to escape much earlier_, she thought.

Step by step, she got closer and closer to the corner of the house and the last window before the corner was open. However, the searchlight got closer and closer to her too. Its three minute cycle had almost come to an end that meant it would arrive at the window of her 'guest room' and in ten or fifteen seconds it would reach to where she was standing now. And then it would be something short of a wonder if the guards didn't notice her. Her cream-coloured dress was quite easy to see even in the dark, but there was no way she wouldn't be spotted when illuminated by the searchlight. Her dress would stand out from the dark grey walls of the building so much that even the most short-sighted guard would easily spot her.

If only she could reach that open window five feet to the right… and if only she managed to climb in unnoticed… _Fat chance, Holly_, she told herself.

_Never give up, Holly_! – The image of her father flashed across her mind. That used to be one of his most favoured sentences… _Never give up, Holly._

_You're absolutely right, Dad,_ she thought with sudden determination. _Just a few more steps…_

The searchlight was coming her way, illuminating the half-closed window of her one-time room, swooping towards her like some whitish-yellow ghost…

_Almost there… Just one more step_…

Three seconds and the searchlight would reach her…

The windowpanes were wide open – the occupant of the room must have felt just as hot as she had…

Two seconds…

She didn't have time to waste.

With a special move called the 'troll sling' (named after the way the victims fall after a troll throws them), she jumped through the open window, into the completely dark room.

o o o O O O o o o

LEP Headquarters, 9 p.m., 15th July, 2016 

"What's that stupid grin on your face, eh?" Root grunted upon entering Ops booth.

"Oh, just had a little chat with Opal Koboi." Foaly waved, still grinning.

"Apparently that pixie's developed a liking for contacting you," Root said. "What did she want?"

"The same as always… I mean, the same as she's been asking for a week now: where's her little Mulchie? That chick must think I'm hiding Diggums in one of my pockets… honestly."

"I hope you didn't tell her anything about Diggums's whereabouts…" The commander lit a fungus cigar.

Coughing and trying to dissipate the smoke, the centaur shook his head. "'Course not. I'm not stupid, Julius. The last thing I want is Koboi to know that Arty, Pat and her beloved dwarf went back in time…" A dreamy expression spread on Foaly's face. "You know, ever since Fowl came up with the idea of this time travel, I just can't keep my mind off them… what horrible things could happen to them in the far past… and what horrible things they could bring about, should they… screw something up."

"What would they screw up?" Root rolled his eyes.

"Well, dunno. Stuff. Like… changing history a bit."

"What could they change, honestly?" The commander grunted, blowing a ringlet of smoke towards the centaur.

"Weeeell… if something goes amiss, Attila might even stay alive even though he was supposed to die, and then they went back in time in vain, as there will be no funeral to watch… Not to mention that if Attila stayed alive any longer than he should have, then he might get a chance to conquer the whole of the Roman Empire – something that he might have done, had he not died in 453."

"That would influence Mud Man history only, but not us fairies." Root shrugged. "And personally, I don't care what happens to the Mud People."

"And what if one of Artemis's ancestors was a Roman who would die if Attila managed to conquer the Roman Empire? That would mean Artemis would be never born, and…"

"…and we would have a much more peaceful life, Pony Boy. And now enough of these theories! They are just that – theories! And Fowl has enough sense not to change anything he isn't supposed to change! And if not him, then at least _Patrick_ has enough sense! I don't want to hear you speaking of the devil again, understood?"

"A little nervous, aren't we, Julius?" The centaur sent the elderly elf a cheeky grin.

"First: don't – call – me – Julius, second: should you hear anything about Holly or Fowl, contact me, immediately. Be it in the middle of the night, be it in the middle of a Council meeting."

"All right, all right, got it. You'll be the first to know. Come to think of it, Fowl might already have returned to our time but it's possible that he only wants to contact us once he gets back from Hungary. That might happen any minute…" Foaly glanced at the digital clock on the wall. "After all, they must have arrived to Hungary sometime around noon, it must have taken them two hours to reach that town called Szeged, and they must have left to the past around four p.m. Now if they manage to return to four p.m., then they could be back in Ireland by nine or ten o'clock. Yeah, any minute… _if_ they made it, that is."

"Good." Root nodded. "Then stay here for the night and wait for his call."

"And you? Going somewhere, dear Ju… Commander?" The centaur gave his boss a meaningful glance.

"You know exactly where I'm going," Julius replied, his cheeks turning slightly redder than the average, which was definitely saying something. One would have thought 'Beetroot' couldn't turn redder than he usually did, but that theory was now refuted.

"Oooooh, you mean the date that Wing-commander Vinyáya talked you into when she cornered you in the canteen?" Foaly trilled, fluttering his eyelashes at Root.

"Wipe that stupid smirk off your face, Civilian!"

o o o O O O o o o

_Cesare Cavalieri's Manor near Kilkenny, eleven p.m., 15th July, 2016_

Holly landed on the room's floor with a soft thud.

Someone snorted in the darkness.

Holly's blood froze.

Someone stirred in the darkness.

Holly held her breath.

Another snort came – or was that rather a snore?

_Whew_. She would have wiped her forehead in relief, had she dared move. But she did not – not yet, at least.

Apparently the occupant of the room must have been fast asleep when she arrived through the window, and the soft thud must have almost awoken them – but just almost.

The figure in the bed moved again, and Holly flattened herself to the floor to stay out of that person's range of vision. The unknown person rolled to its other side and continued sleeping. Their snores were unmistakable, there was no way they could be only pretending to be sleeping…

Holly slowly rose to all fours and glanced at the bed. Her heart missed a beat. Even in the semi-darkness she could easily tell who was sleeping there: Cesare Cavalieri.

_You low-down son of a gangster, _Holly felt like screaming_. It was you all the time! **You** were behind this whole kidnapping! **You** had Emese on a leash! That's how she found out about Artemis's leaving for Hungary… **you** were the spy at Fowl Manor_. Her hands clenched into fists. She had been working for this monster for months! Her own employer had been planning her kidnap for who knows how long! _Oh, poor Mr Fowl, how disappointed he'll be when he finds out that his best friend is a traitor! Artemis had been right all along not to trust this Italian scum, this excuse of an archaeologist! Now wait a minute! Oooooh… I finally get it. Attila's grave. He's seeking Attila's grave because he's an archaeologist. Bravo Holly, you've put the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle together. Now all you have to do it get out of this d'Arvitting house!_

Slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible, Holly crawled to the door. Luckily, it wasn't protected by a safety mechanism like the door of Artemis's room, and there was no alarm that could go off if she didn't punch in a proper code. It was a plain old door, probably made in the eighteenth century. If Cavalieri wasn't a paranoiac person, he might not even have locked it with a key.

Casting a glance in the bed's direction and making sure that the Italian man was still in dreamland, Holly rose to her feet and pushed the handle.

_Hah! Not paranoid at all!_

The door opened easily and noiselessly, which was quite remarkable for a door of this size and age.

Holly stuck her head out to check the corridor for possibly patrolling guards. There were none patrolling – only those two standing like a pair of statues at the very end of the corridor. The two who were guarding _her_ door. She could see them easily, as this end of the corridor was dark but the other end was illuminated by a few lamps. Very likely Cavalieri had instructed the guards to use as little light as possible, and since the only guards needed for guarding a door in this corridor were the two at the other end, no lights were needed around Cavalieri's door. Well, at least his parsimony had some use for Holly: she could blend into the darkness and leave the room without 'her guards' noticing. She seriously hoped that her cream coloured dress wouldn't give her away. For a second it flashed across her mind that it would be much more convenient if human brides got married in black instead of white – then she'd have a more suitable-for-escaping and more resistant-to-smudges dress.

With a final glance at the dozing archaeologist, Holly slid out the door and gently closed it behind her.

The guards at the other end of the corridor seemed to take no heed of the movement at this end.

Pressing her back to the wall, Holly crept towards the staircase.

o o o O O O o o o

_Krimhilda's tent, Attila's camp, 13th April, 453. A.D._

"I'm listening, milady." Detre, the king's German counsellor bowed slightly before the queen. "What is thy bidding?"

"You know exactly what I want, Detre, and it's the same _you_ want," Krimhilda replied with a haughty smile. "And that makes you my perfect accomplice."

"Accomplice? In what exactly, milady?" Detre raised an eyebrow at the woman.

"Getting rid of Csaba, of course," she replied with an angelic expression. "You too want to see Attila's kingdom in German hands after his death, don't you?"

The man merely bowed.

"Good. You know that the only way it's possible is to make _my son_ the heir to Attila's throne. Once Attila dies and Aladár is crowned, he can offer his land to the German king, and then this land will be in German hands – where it rightfully belongs. I'm sure the king will let Aladár remain the ruler of Pannonia if I ask him to… After all, I've always been his favourite daughter."

"That sounds marvellous, milady." Detre grinned. "But do tell, how are you planning to get rid of Prince Csaba?"

"Get him killed." She shrugged. "Any of my faithful servants would be willing to do me the favour…"

"But… but… milady, wouldn't it be suspicious? I mean… you and the Germans would be the first suspects… Everyone knows that you and Prince Aladár are the ones who could profit the most from Csaba's death!"

An evil smile spread on Krimhilda's face, making her resemble a beautiful but extremely venomous snake. "Then all we have to do is to frame someone else… Say… that Artemis Faulus."

o o o O O O o o o

_Cesare Cavalieri's Manor near Kilkenny, eleven p.m., 15th July, 2016_

Holly started running down the marble stairs, but after only three steps, she halted, frozen with terror. Even though she wasn't wearing high heels (Juliet had wanted to talk her into wearing those abominations, but Holly couldn't be persuaded), the sole of her shoes made a pattering sound that echoed throughout the staircase.

_D'Arvit_! – she swore. As an LEP fairy, she should have thought about this! How could she be so careless?

Not moving for several seconds, she listened and waited. There was no movement – the guards at the end of the corridor must have thought that Miss Emese or another guard was walking downstairs and did not budge from their post.

_You're losing your touch, Holly_, she scolded herself, bending to pull her shoes off. The marble was cold, so she had to tread on it quickly and get out of the building soon if she didn't want to catch a cold.

It took Holly minutes to reach the ground-floor, and hiding behind the statue of a Roman woman (that looked haughty and jewel-covered enough to be the wife of a senator), she peeked out into the entrance hall. Everything was silent and dark and peaceful, not a single living being in sight.

Straining her eyes, Holly tried to spot possible cameras, but it was too dark to notice them, even if they were there. Well, even if there _were_ cameras, hopefully they weren't working in infrared mode… and if Cavalieri was so careless not to lock the door of his own room, then presumably he would be careless enough not to equip his entrance hall with motion sensors. Setting off an invisible alarm was Holly's worst nightmare, not to mention that if it happened and someone at the LEP found out about it, Her Commandership would become a laughing stock. Not that she ever planned on telling her escapades as a human to any fairy but Patrick, Julius and Foaly…

Carefully, she crept across the hall. Cavalieri must have had a passion for Roman – or fake-Roman – statues, as the entrance door too was flanked by two of these marble wonders. One of the statues seemed to depict a girl in a bath (at least she must have been bathing, given the fact that she was half-naked and was clutching something that resembled a towel), and a young man in armour looking as pompous and self-assured as though he owned the universe.

Reminding herself that this was no time for observations, Holly glanced out the nearest window.

No one seemed to be moving outside. Apparently Cavalieri – or Emese – had instructed all the guards to patrol along the backside of the building – as Holly had expected (or rather hoped). But, of course, this could easily be a trap. There could be guards hiding in the surrounding bushes, their guns pointed at the door, and they would fire at anyone who dared exit at such an ungodly hour…

But there was no backing out now. _I've come this far…_ Her heart was again hammering in her throat. _Pull yourself together, Holly! For your own sake, and for that of Artemis and your children!_

Just thinking of the new life growing inside of her calmed her. Taking a deep breath, Holly put her shoes back on, then reached for the handle and pushed it. The heavy oak door opened slowly, unwillingly, as though it were some old, retired soldier who would get mad at anyone who dared disturb his well-deserved rest.

In a second Holly was outside, hurtling towards the shrubbery. In a flash of cream-and-white dress, she disappeared behind the nearest bush.

o o o O O O o o o

_The Gobbling Goblin, Lower Elements, eleven p.m., 15th July, 2016_

"You look concerned, Julius," Wing-Commander Vinyáya perceived, her huge, black eyes boring into Root's murky brown ones.

"Concerned? What makes you think that, Annie?" Root faked a smile, knowing that anyone could see that his smile was anything but genuine, not to mention that Annie Vinyáya was definitely one of the most perceptive women belowground.

"You've been like that for a week…"

"I had no idea you were paying so much attention to me…" Root willed himself not to blush.

"Of course I was paying attention to you." Vinyáya reached out and squeezed his hand. "You're a good commander, Julius, someone who cannot be distracted by anything… and yet, here you are, completely distracted."

"And you're surprised? You're the greatest distraction under the face of earth, Wing-Commander."

"Are you romancing me, Julius?" She raised an eyebrow at him with a challenging look.

"I wouldn't dream of it…" Root smiled embarrassedly.

"So, the only reason you agreed to have dinner with me was because I asked," she said with a hint of disappointment in her voice. "You would never have asked me out, right, Commander?"

Root was beginning to feel more and more insecure by the moment. "You know… you know that's not true, Annie… it's just that… that I'm under great pressure."

"Great pressure that you refuse to tell me about," she said sharply.

Root heaved a sigh. "If I could, I would tell you about it… but I can't."

"Family problems?" she asked with a compassionate expression.

"I would say that," Julius replied. And well, he wasn't even lying: he considered Holly as his daughter, and her disappearance _was_ a family problem.

"Well… should you think I could help, don't hesitate to tell me," Vinyáya said with an encouraging smile. "Oh, see, our dinner's coming!"

"At last," Julius sighed, relieved that this unpleasant conversation was over, at least for a while.

The waiter gnome placed a plate full of Atlantean fire crabs before Vinyáya, and Spaghetti ala Frond before Root.

Picking up his fork and spoon, Julius glanced at his watch. It was past eleven o'clock. And Foaly still hadn't notified him of Fowl's arrival. Something must have gone amiss…

o o o O O O o o o

_The park of Cesare Cavalieri's Manor, shortly past eleven p.m., 15th July, 2016_

Holly crept from bush to bush, from tree to tree, distancing herself from the building as much as possible. In five minutes she was at least two hundred feet from the house and at this point any guard who happened to wander in front of the house and spot her might have mistaken her for a ghost in her white dress.

Luckily not a single guard appeared in front of the building, and Holly wasn't even looking back anymore. She ran parallel to the alley that stretched between the building and the country road that ran perpendicular to the alley. If only she could reach that road and get a lift… possibly before her captors noticed that she'd escaped…

She was thankful to Cavalieri's gardeners for having planted several bushes alongside the alley, as the shrubbery gave her a chance to leave the manor's area unnoticed. Had she been held captive at Fowl Manor and had she had to escape the same way, she very likely would have been spotted sooner or later, as the alley that stretched between Fowl Manor and the nearest country rode consisted of hornbeam trees only, with not a single bush in sight.

After another ten minutes, Holly reached the end of the alley. She glanced back in the direction of the house and was relieved to see no movement. Her escape hadn't yet been discovered, then. Now all she had to do was hitchhike and hope that the person willing to give her a lift was decent enough. The last thing she felt like dealing with was a possibly sex-starved male who mistook her for a prostitute.

Holly had always liked moonlight, and tonight the moon was shining brightly. By merely looking at it, she got nostalgic. How she had loved venturing to the surface just to marvel a bit at moonlight… How many times her father had taken her on aboveground trips… He had loved the aboveground world a lot too – allegedly he had inherited his love for it from his mother and passed it down to his daughter. Holly had never known her grandma, but her father had told her several tales about 'the great Fiona'. According to her father, Fiona was the most wonderful elf woman, perhaps save for his wife, Iris.

Holly suppressed a sigh. What would she have given to have a chance to know either her mother or grandmother! But no. That was something Fate had denied her. Having had no female role-model, she had had doubts about raising a child when she'd agreed to donate an egg for The Project. Sometimes she still wondered whether she was a good enough mother… and now that this baby was on the way, she couldn't help wondering if she was up to being mother to two when most of the time she felt she couldn't even handle one. Well, Patrick was definitely a handful, but what could she expect of the son of Fowl?

With a smile, she rubbed her belly. Would this baby look like her or like Artemis? Or a mixture of the two? Would she be born with pointy ears to scare Grandma Angeline to death?

Holly got shaken out of her daydreaming by a pair of lights in the distance. Obviously the headlights of a car.

There were tall lamps on each side of the road at fifty-metre-intervals, and Holly rushed to the nearest lamp to be as visible to the car's driver as possible, and held out her hand with her thumb up.

The car swept past her as though its driver hadn't even seen her.

_D'Arvit_, she fumed. Of course, she had been too naive to think that the first car would pick her up…

In the next ten minutes two other cars turned up and swept past her without paying her any attention.

Holly was getting really nervous. With every passing minute grew the chance that people at the manor would notice her absence and the first place they'd look for her was the road.

After another seven minutes, a funny-looking car loomed out of the darkness. It didn't look much like a car, rather like a spaceship of some kind, only rolling on wheels. It was a cabriolet with its roof folded back, and several strangely dressed people were poking out of it.

The car slowed down and halted next to Holly.

"What, hitchhiking without a towel, dearie?" one of the men in the car – who funnily resembled Chewbacca – called out to her.

"Reciting the Hitchhiker's guide when going to The Annual Meeting of the Irish Star Wars Fans is nothing short of a blasphemy," another man replied in a half-scolding, half-joking tone. "Sorry, miss, Jerry's like that, one has to get used to him. He always forgets what kind of behaviour is expected in different fan clubs. Why, last time he started to laud Star Wars in a circle of Trekkies…"

"Not that you don't like Star Trek too, Doug," the man named Jerry (who, Holly was absolutely sure now, was wearing a Chewbacca costume), replied to Doug, who appeared to be dressed up as a Jedi.

"What the Sith are you doing here at the back of beyond at such an unholy hour, miss?" a third man – the driver of the 'spaceship/shuttle/whatever' asked. He was sporting a white shirt with black leather pants and vest. Holly guessed he was supposed to be Han Solo.

"Well…" She realised that she hadn't yet come up with a plausible story. "Well, see, I ran away from my wedding…"

"Yeah, we guessed so much," Jerry-Chewbacca replied. "Must have been a rough flight, considering the state of your wedding dress…"

"Yeah." Holly sighed. "It was horrible. I was… I was wrong to accept that man's proposal. He's a lunatic, and… and… dangerous! And that's something I only realised after we said the I do's." She opened her arms theatrically. "I had no other choice but to flee. To save myself and my child-to-be-born."

"Oooooh… That's terrible." The 'Jedi' – wearing a honey-coloured, but obviously fake, beard, clasped his hands. "Having a madman for a husband, while pregnant with his child… tsk-tsk…"

"Yeah, isn't it, General Kenobi?" Holly said dejectedly.

The 'Jedi' grinned at her. "Hop into the shuttle, Padmé, dear."

"Padmé?" 'Han Solo' glanced at Holly over his shoulder. "I'd rather say she resembles Mara Jade with her red hair…"

"Mara Jade? Who's that?" Holly asked, slipping onto the seat next to 'Obi-Wan'.

"Who? The sexiest and most interesting female character in the whole EU!"

"EU?" Holly was getting more and more confused. Not that she hadn't seen the Star Wars movies, but she wasn't into them _this much_… "You mean, European Union?"

"Nah, he means Extended Universe." Jerry waved as the driver started the engines and the car accelerated. "Extended Universe contains not only the movies but all the sequel books as well. Mara Jade is a character in the sequel books. When she first appears, she wants to murder Luke Skywalker, then she marries him. By the way, be careful with such assertions, Nate, old boy. I bet Luke won't be happy to hear you're hitting on his wife…"

"Why, I was only telling the truth, Mara kicks ass," the driver replied.

For a few minutes Holly listened to the three Star Wars fans' bantering about 'who's the hottest female in the Galaxy Far Far Away', but after a while, she gave up. As Doug started to analyse Princess Leia's bun-like hairdo, Holly's head lolled over Jerry's shoulder. The man's shoulder was covered with what looked like Wookiee-fur that felt wonderfully soft. She couldn't even have wished for a better cushion. Had she not been so tired, she would probably have asked Jerry whether he didn't feel hot in the furry costume, but before she could have made her lips to form that question, she fell asleep.

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: I will try to update once more before Christmas, but if I don't manage, then I'm wishing you all a very merry Christmas! (my two A/H Xmas pics are still linked into my ffnet bio, if you haven't seen them yet, look at them now :) And _review_, as a pre-Christmas gift ;)**


	11. Children Will Be Children

**A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! Review responses sent out as usual.**

**Also thanks to: _J. Dawnwolf, Longsworder, frenchpiment, The Flying Moose, AnnieThePipster, __Chibi Binasu-chan, I Am The Krow, septempopuli, ebtwisty9, Fleury, SPG, Lii, LOkid, Queen Dragon, The OddBird, refloc, Epsilon2Delta, Anonymous (it's really easy to make an email addy at hotmail or yahoo, you know…), an-angel-in-hell, Unrealistic, WiseAbsol, Soccer101_**

**Two more build-up chapters, and things will start to get really interesting, I promise. Until then, bear with me, please.**

**Chapter 11**

**Children Will Be Children**

_A meadow near Attila's camp, 14th April, 453 A.D._

"No, no, you've got to hold it like this, not like that," a Hun boy of the name Irnik told Patrick, showing him the right way of holding and bending a bow. "There, now you're doing it right. Now, choose your target – say, that tree-trunk over there – and shoot."

Patrick did as told and shot the arrow. It missed the tree-trunk, but barely.

"Hey, not bad for a first shot," Irnik said, grinning at the 'British' boy. "Did you see that, Aladár? He did really well, don't you think?"

"First: it's Prince Aladár, second: it could've been better," the addressed boy replied with a bored expression.

"'Course, _Prince_ Aladár." Irnik rolled his eyes. Aladár either did not notice it or completely ignored it, but Patrick could barely hide his amusement. He had met this boy three days prior, and was now surprised to see that if he wanted, he could get along with children of his age.

Back in Haven he had thought it impossible as everyone there thought he was a freak, but here no one knew him, no one thought he was different from them in any respect (save his nationality), and they willingly accepted him. Irnik had two brothers who had showed Patrick around in the nearby forest; and a sister, whom Patrick had only seen once, but in whose presence he had felt all fluttery for some reason. Fortunately Irnik's sister wasn't around now to see his first shot miss its target – the boy thought he would have wanted to disappear from the face of earth if she had seen it.

"So, _Prince_ Aladár, are you excited about your father's upcoming wedding?" Irnik asked, watching as Attila's younger son bent his bow, clearly determined to show that snot-nosed Brit how a real Hun shot an arrow.

Aladár lowered his bow and glanced at the other boys. "Are you stupid, or just pretending to be?"

"Huh?" Irnik blinked.

Aladár heaved a sigh with an 'I'm surrounded by idiots' stare. "How am I supposed to be excited about it? My father's marrying a girl barely older than myself, and if that girl gives him heirs, then they too will be competition for the throne!"

"Ooooh… you know, that's really noble of you," Patrick said.

"What?" Aladár looked confused.

"That you worry so much about Csaba's succession."

"Me?" The prince furrowed his brow. He couldn't decide if the 'Brit' was mocking him or really meant it.

"Well, you just said so: you didn't want any more brothers, because then they would be a threat to Csaba getting the throne. Or... did I misunderstand it?" Young Short smiled innocently at the prince.

Aladár pressed his lips so tightly together that they formed a single line, but nodded. "Of course that's what I meant. Csaba's the rightful heir to Father's throne. Any brats that this Mikolt might give birth to, could possibly want to fight him for the throne."

"And you'd never do that," replied Patrick, but his statement sounded rather like a question.

"Of course not!" Aladár snapped. "Honestly, if you're being so stupid and childish, I don't know why I'm wasting my time with you lot!"

With that he threw the bow he was still holding, turned on his heels and marched away.

"I'm heart-broken…" Irnik grinned. "You too?"

"Of course," Patrick sighed theatrically. "How am I supposed to learn how to shoot now if He-Who-Can-Shoot-Best left us?"

"I'd rather call him He-Who-Has-A-Little-Problem-With-His-Mind," Irnik replied, and the two boys burst out laughing.

o o o O O O o o o

A few dozen feet away, two figures sat under a beech tree.

"He likes it here," Fiona spoke up, her eyes fixed on the boys. "I mean, your brother. He's not as pale anymore as he was when you arrived here. And he smiles much more."

"Yes, he's healed." Artemis nodded. He had been watching the boys on the meadow for at least an hour and couldn't help noticing how much this little journey to the past had changed his son. They had only spent four days in the Huns' camp, but it had been enough for Patrick to turn from a level-headed, stoic, precocious boy into what he was supposed to be: a carefree teenager enjoying life. His behaviour resembled Holly's more and more by every passing minute. Of course, once in a while he still acted aloof and spoke in a cynical way – his Fowl self hadn't completely disappeared and Artemis doubted it ever would – but his Short self seemed to be winning over.

This was no longer the computer-maniac boy whom Artemis had first spotted on a recording in Holly's portable, powder-box-look-a-like holoprojector. That boy had been a hundred percent like him: cold, self-important and moody. This one playing on the meadow was full of life and enthusiasm… he was everything Artemis was not.

Artemis wondered if he too would have changed as a child, had he had a chance to spend time away from home among a few decent and intelligent people of his age. The boys at St. Bartleby's didn't count, they were anything but decent and anything but intelligent. Well, probably even if he _had_ met young people worthy of his attention, he would probably have ignored them, not even giving himself a chance to get to know their good qualities.

But Patrick was different, obviously. Under all the layers of coldness and aloofness, the boy was as warm-hearted as Holly, and now, for the first time, Artemis saw it. He saw his real son. His son, who now picked up a sword and began fencing with a Hun boy. Their laughter reached over to where he and Fiona were sitting, and Artemis suddenly felt something compress his gullet. Was it envy? Envy that his son gave himself a chance to be a child while he had never dared try it himself?

_Never dared_… Those were two words that made his heart clench even more. Because those words were true to the last letter. He had been afraid to act like a child. With his immense intellect, he had feared he'd become a laughing stock if he didn't act like an adult. Who had heard of childish genii, after all?

He had wasted his childhood. And now it seemed that he had wasted it for nothing. He had lost his genius – the genius for which he had decided to forfeit his youth. He had wasted it in the belief that genii must be lonely and cold; and now that he was no longer a genius, he felt something like an empty space in his heart: the space where all the wonderful childhood memories should have been stored. There were none. Instead of birthday-parties with twenty kids all singing 'Happy birthday, dear Arty', there were images of Butler buying him a new laptop or installing a new cctv system as a present. Instead of bathing in a lake and tossing a beach ball at his father, there were images of himself plotting how to get enough money to save said father from the Russian mafia. Instead of having his mother read out Snow White before he fell asleep, there were only images of himself reading War and Peace until he got bored of it enough to fall asleep. As a child, he had never learned how to swim, had never ridden a bicycle, and had never travelled anywhere just for the fun of it. He had taken everything too seriously… and now he regretted it.

He couldn't deny it: he was envious of his son. Patrick had everything he did not: an IQ completely off the charts and a chance to make up for the, so far, wasted years of his youth.

"He's a very special boy," Fiona said gently. "I know it. I feel it. Don't ask why, I just do." She shook her head with an apologetic smile. "You must think I'm crazy, but when I'm looking at your brother, I feel as though I knew him."

"Well, you do know him." Artemis shrugged. "You've known him for four days already."

"Not like that… I feel as though I had known him much longer… he just seems… _feels_ familiar. Like a long lost relative or something… I'm completely off my rocker, eh?"

Artemis forced a smile on his face. "Of course not."

"Thanks." She made a grimace. "But everyone who knows me thinks I'm crazy… you don't need to pretend that you see me differently. Even my fiancé thinks I'm a bit loony… he just doesn't dare admit it to me because he fears that I'd like him even less than I do now."

"Do you dislike him so much?"

"Well…" She looked away, Artemis's piercing blue eyes making her feel uneasy, "not that much anymore. You know, our fathers arranged this marriage when we were mere children. I only found out when my father died and I was beside myself with rage. I hadn't even met Alexius before, and I was expected to marry him as soon as he deigned to put in an appearance!" Her tiny hands balled into fists. "I was so, so angry that I decided to flee. I would have done anything just to avoid getting married to him. That was when I met Attila… he gave me shelter and treated me in a friendly way. My fiancé knew I was in Attila's camp and came after me…"

She stood up, dusting her white, robe-like clothes. "I couldn't really complain, though… he was nice enough and didn't urge me to marry him right away. He gave me time to get to know him better… and he claimed he'd fallen for me at first sight."

"And you haven't yet fallen in love with him, have you?"

Fiona shook her head.

"Is it because you love someone else?" Artemis knew that this question was slightly tactless and even dangerous, but he felt he had to ask it.

She turned to face him, tears glinting in her huge, hazel eyes. "Maybe," she whispered. "I don't know."

Artemis gave her a politely confused look, even though he had a suspicion as to who Fiona's secret love was.

"Listen, Mu... Artemis, I'm not obliged to tell you about my love life, so let's just drop the topic, shall we?"

"As you wish." The Irishman shrugged, hiding a grin. She had almost called him Mud Boy or Mud Man and she had no idea he knew she was a fairy… He didn't even know if he should tell her he knew it or not mention it at all. Well, even if he told her some day, it wasn't now. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. I didn't mean to."

"Don't worry, you didn't hurt me."

o o o O O O o o o

Shortly before lunchtime Patrick and Irnik stopped fencing and started collecting the swords and bows to take them back to the tent in which the Huns stored the 'training weapons'. The training weapons were only slightly different from the real ones, but they were much less dangerous. The arrows' tips weren't sharp enough to kill and the swords were all blunt.

On their way to the storage tent, they ran into Csenge, Irnik's sister. For some reason Patrick almost dropped all the swords he was carrying.

"You've been out practicing?" she asked with a smile at Patrick.

"Why else would we be carrying these bows and swords, eh?" Irnik said gruffly. "Hold your mouth as long as you can't come up with a decent question, sister!"

"Don't talk to her like that," Patrick told his friend with an annoyed expression.

"Why not? She's just my sister, and a _female_."

"In our country, we hold females in great esteem," young Short said. Well, undoubtedly male-chauvinism was flourishing in the LEP, and perhaps in whole Haven, but male fairies didn't talk down to females like that. That would have been unacceptable.

"Hold them in great esteem?" came a cold voice from behind them. Prince Aladár walked up to them, wearing his usual 'I'm-the-centre-of-the-universe' expression. "Why, if I may ask?"

"Because they are important part of our society."

"Yeah, they cook and wash your clothes, I presume." Aladár smirked nastily. "Not to mention warm your beds."

Patrick gave the prince a patronising glance. "In our world, females are our equals. They fight just like us if they have to. Why, my own mother is a soldier."

"You've got to be kidding." Irnik made a grimace.

"Why?" Csenge cut in. "Is that so unbelievable for you that even women can fight like you can?"

"Whatever you say, Brit boy." Aladár waved, ignoring the girl. "Anyway, I can well imagine a woman being a soldier in a land where people don't even know how to use a bow. I bet soldiers there don't even _need_ to fight… Is it true that you've never held a bow in your hand before?"

"Yeah. So what?"

"Then what do you people fight with?"

"Well, we have Neutrinos and laser cutters, and if everything goes wrong, we can apply a blue rinse," Patrick replied, enjoying the expression of total confusion that spread on the prince's stupid face.

"Oh. I see." Aladár nodded, not wanting to let the 'Brit' know that he didn't understand a word of what he had just said. "And you don't have bows at all?"

"Just in museums, but once my Da… brother went on a journey to save me from an evil kidnapper, and met a few Indians who gave him a bow. When all his other weapons malfunctioned, he killed a jaguar and my kidnapper with the bow."

"Aha…" The prince made a grimace. He had no idea what a museum and a jaguar were and what Indians were, but he wouldn't sink so low as to admit it. "Tell you what, your brother doesn't seem the warrior type… he's even afraid of riding a horse."

"He is not! He's definitely a big warrior!" Patrick replied angrily. He had never lost his composure like that, but stuck-up little Prince Aladár had that effect on him.

"Yeah? Then let him prove it," Aladár said with an evil smirk.

"What do you mean?" Patrick frowned.

"There's going to be a little fighting festivity in two days, in honour of my father and his… wife-to-be." The prince said 'wife-to-be' with a disgusted expression. "I heard Keve has no fighting partner yet. Your brother's on. Tell him to prepare."

"But…" For the first time in his life, Patrick didn't know how to react.

"Of course, if he's not up to it…" Aladár's voice trailed off.

"He is!"

"Good. Then see you in two days at the festivity." With that the prince left, a malicious smirk on his face.

"Am I right assuming that your brother won't be happy with you?" Irnik asked.

Patrick heaved a sigh. "Yeah. You're absolutely right."

o o o O O O o o o

_A little village near Dublin, barely past midnight, 16th July, 2016_

Holly woke to feeling the car stop. She didn't know how long she had been asleep, but she assumed it couldn't have been long, as she felt just as tired as she had been when the Star Wars fan trio had given her a lift. It was also still completely dark, not even a slight whitish line visible on the horizon, so dawn must have been still far away.

"Awake, Sleeping Beauty?" Jerry, in the Chewbacca costume, grinned down at her. Apparently he had removed the 'wookie head' that he had so far been sporting and Holly had to admit that he looked much younger than she'd expected. He couldn't have been older than twenty.

"Awake, but not Sleeping Beauty," she replied, stifling a yawn. "Just call me Holly. Why have we stopped, by the way?"

"Well, we need to sleep somewhere, don't we?" Doug – in his marvellous Kenobi costume – replied. "We reserved a room in a pension here. It will be a little small for the four of us, but… I hope you don't mind having to sleep in the same room with three men?"

Holly shook her head. "Actually, I don't want to sleep yet. I need an internet connection to let my friends know I'm okay, and then…" _Then what?_ – she wondered. Return to Fowl Manor? Hardly. She didn't know whether Cavalieri had planted any spy cameras into the building during one of his friendly visits to Artemis Senior. She couldn't risk returning there just yet. Not likely that Cavalieri could have her kidnapped once again from the same house, but one can never be careful enough. Not to mention that Artemis and Patrick were presumably still in Hungary. So to say, the Brains of the Family were far away, and Holly didn't think it was a good idea to let Cavalieri know about her whereabouts before she managed to talk to her husband and son.

But now, she needed to get in contact with Foaly.

"Well, you decide, Holly." Nate shrugged. "But I'm not sure you will find an Internet Café around here… at least not one that is still open at half past twelve…"

But Holly was in luck. The owner of the pension greeted them drowsily, and at Holly's enquiries about an Internet Café, he replied (still half-asleep) that she could use one of the three computers in the pension's dining hall.

"You just go to sleep, I'll join you as soon as I'm finished here," she told her three new friends who nodded between two yawns and trudged upstairs into room 27.

The owner of the place sat down behind the bar counter and poured himself a cup of coffee. Apparently he wasn't trusting enough to let this suspicious 'bride' in her torn wedding clothes alone with his precious computers.

Holly tried to ignore the landlord's curious eyes on her and quickly typed in a secret code that opened a channel to Foaly's computer.

o o o O O O o o o

_Attila's camp, 14th April, 453 A.D._

"You did WHAT?" Artemis yelled at Patrick. For the first time in his life, he was yelling at his son.

"So…sorry, Dad," the boy apologised. "But should I have let everyone think you were a coward?"

"Yes, that's exactly what you should have done!" Artemis snapped, dropping himself angrily on the cot in their tent. "Better be a supposed coward than a dead hero!"

"Completely agree, Arty boy," Mulch said wisely. "Say, if you die here, can I have the gold you got from the Holly Short Ransom Fund?"

Artemis ignored the dwarf, his eyes focused on his son who was shuffling his feet and gazing at the thick carpets. "Tell me, Patrick, have you too lost your genius? Because that's what one would think judging by your latest actions!"

"I know, Dad… and I'm absolutely sorry. But nothing's lost… if you happen to get seriously injured, I can still heal you. I'm full of magic, no need to worry."

"No need to worry?" Artemis gasped. "Heavens, Patrick! What got into you? You've completely changed! You're acting as though you were someone else but not my son! What on earth happened? What's this sudden idiocy, eh?"

"I'd say the boy's in love," Mulch commented, sucking a worm into his mouth.

Artemis's eyes widened. "_Love_? Is that true?"

Patrick still did not look at him. "Dunno, Dad. I just… wanted people to think you were some kind of a hero…"

"To show-off in front of Prince BigHead… and of course little Csenge, huh?" the dwarf chuckled.

"Csenge?" Artemis frowned. "Who's that?"

"Irnik's sister," the boy mumbled. "But I wasn't trying to show-off…"

"Of coooourse not," Mulch waved. "I was behind a tent, searching for dessert worms there, and happened to see and hear you, Patty boy. First you came up with this rubbish about women being equal in your land – obviously to impress the little girl; and then the prince mocked you about your lack of knowledge in archery and you rose to the bait. Genius or not, that was incredibly stupid of you."

"I know that, okay?" Patrick snapped at Mulch. "No need to rub it in! I've long regretted it, but I can no longer change it, so there! Dad will fight this Keve and prove he's a great warrior."

"Which I'm NOT," his father reminded him coldly. "I might survive the fight, but I will undoubtedly be defeated and laughed at. If that's what you wanted, you will have it, _Son_." He uttered the word 'son' so cynically that it made Patrick feel even worse than he already felt.

"Forgive me, Dad…" he mumbled, but Artemis had already left the tent.

"Well, that's not exactly a good way to develop your father-son relationship," Mulch commented.

"In other words: I screwed it up," Patrick sighed.

"That you have, boy. That you have."

o o o O O O o o o

_Ops Booth, Police Plaza, quarter to one a.m., 16th April, 2016_

Foaly rubbed his eyes, yawning, and silently cursing Julius. That idiot of a commander had ordered him to stay at Police Plaza and wait for Artemis's call. A call that still hadn't come.

The centaur was giving thoughts to turning his computers off and leaving for home where his wonderfully soft, warm bed awaited him eagerly; when suddenly a message flashed on all of the computers' screens.

_Incoming request for contact from aboveground, coordinates…_

Foaly read the message that contained all information on the incoming call, including the exact location from where the unknown person was trying to contact him. Apparently someone was using the LEP's secret messaging system to reach him from a Mud Man pension near Dublin. Could it be Artemis? Not very likely. Why would the Mud Boy try to call him from a pension and why not from Fowl Manor?

The centaur checked and double-checked the channel for security reasons, and after two minutes he decided it was safe to receive the call.

Despite what he had expected, no image appeared on the screen and no sound came through, only letters. Written in English. Lucky that fairies had the talent with languages…

_Foaly! It's Holly! I'm using the LEP's messaging system – thanks heaven one can log into it from even a simple Mud Man computer!_

Foaly's heart jumped in delight. Apparently the computer she was using didn't allow for videoconferencing and voice-transmissions, so he too will have to answer by typing – and he would have to type in English, using Latin letters, assuming that Holly's computer couldn't interpret the Gnommish ones.

**Holly! Is that really you? Wait, I have to check! What did you buy old Julius for his 699th birthday?**

_You know, at questions like this, I would be normally rolling my eyes _– came the reply_. – I bought him a golden snuffbox._

**Right, you did! I mean… right, Holly did. I still can't be sure that's you, old girl… Just one other question…**

_Now I'm really rolling my eyes, Foaly…_

**Okay, okay, TELL ME, HOW AND WHY did you fall in love with the Mud Boy?**

_As you too know, we went to Mexico to save our son from that idiot Quartz Quench and I fell for him during this mission. As to why? Well, he's got those dreamy blue eyes, an extremely sexy rear, and…_

**OKAY, OKAY, EHOUGH,I BELIEVE YOU! Oh, Holly, you have no idea how relieved I am! Say, how did you escape? Who held you captive at all and where?**

Holly told him. She recounted the events of the last week, including everything about Emese and Cavalieri, about her miraculous escape and the three friends heading for the Annual Meeting of the Irish Star Wars Fans.

_And now I really don't know what to do, Foaly. I don't think I should return to Fowl Manor, in case Cavalieri has planted bugs all over the house. Any advice?_

**Mmmm... I agree with you on not returning to Fowl Manor. As for the rest? No idea yet. I'm going to consult Julius. I'll call him right now. How long can you stay online?**

_All night, I suppose. Though the landlord would be really mad if I did. The poor one needs some sleep, after all. And so do I._

**Say, are those three BLOKES trustworthy? I mean, it's not like you share a room with three men all the time…**

_Don't worry, Foaly, I can take care of myself. Besides, they look too funny and loony to be any kind of a threat. They sort of remind me of those crazy gnomes with whom I once had to share a shuttle when they were going to the pizza celebration… They might be off their rocker a bit, but they are decent._

**Okay, Holls, stay in contact, I'm CALLING Julius now. Bet he'll love me interrupting his date…**

_His what?_

**DATE. YOU READ IT WELL.**

_Hah! Can't believe! Who's the fortunate one?_

**Annie Vinyáya.**

_Wow! You've got to tell me about that later!_

**Promise I will.**

o o o O O O o o o

_A meadow near Attila's camp, 14th April, 453 A.D._

Artemis wasn't looking where he went. He just went, with the intention of getting as far from their tent and especially from his son as possible.

Just a few hours ago he had felt happy – and slightly envious – that his son was beginning to act like a real child, but now he wished Patrick had stayed the same stoic, cold Fowl as he had been before being kidnapped by Quench…

But the boy had changed, and Artemis could no longer decide whether it was a change for the better or the worse. His rational self told him it was definitely a change for the worse, but his fatherly self (that he had thought did not exist until he first met the boy) told him he should be grateful that Patrick had got a chance for a happier childhood than he had.

_If that happy childhood includes sending his father into lethal danger, then it could only be wrong_, he reasoned.

_You're selfish, Artemis_ – the other half of his soul replied.

_Selfish, me? It was the boy who was so selfish that all he wanted was to be recognised by the Huns but he didn't care how that would affect **me**!_

_Oh, Artemis… Don't you see that he wasn't selfish just… childish?_ – a soothing voice in his mind commented.

_Childish? **My son**? That's unheard of! If he's a proper Fowl, he can't be childish!_

_A proper Fowl? Is there such a thing at all? Besides, he's partly Short. And probably inherited all Holly's recklessness and her fun-loving nature. You should be happy that he finally came out of his Fowl-cocoon and opened his heart to the rest of the world! That's so much like Holly, isn't it? And you love Holly for what she's like…_

_I do love her, of course… and believe it or not, I love my son too… but…_

_But what?_

_I think he doesn't love me. Or at least, not the way a son should love his father…_

_You're talking as if you **knew** how exactly a son should love his father – _the soothing voice said, now a little more sharply.

_Damn it. You're right. I don't know. My relationship with my father was never a normal one… _

_But that doesn't mean you can't have a normal father-son relationship with Patrick, does it?_

Artemis flopped down on a patch of grass under a blossoming tree. _I don't know_… he thought. _Patrick doesn't even respect me._

_What makes you think that, eh?_

Artemis hid his face in his palms. _Nothing. Just… well**, there is** something. In his place I wouldn't respect me for sure. He's a genius even if recently he's been acting otherwise, and I'm no longer one. I'm not even the heroic type… that must be the reason why he lied I was a great warrior. Perhaps that's the father-model he'd like to have and he's disappointed that I don't meet his expectations. Neither in the intelligence, nor the heroism department. That poor boy, how he must have longed to finally meet someone who equals him in intelligence, and then when he finally met me, he had to realise that I was no longer clever enough to have sensible conversations with…_

He heaved a sigh. _I was unfair to him, _he realised_. Certainly, what he did was rash and stupid, but I shouldn't have shouted at him like that… all he wanted was to be proud of me. And I'll fight that Keve and make him proud, if that's the last thing I do_. A sarcastic smile appeared on his face. _Well, it better **not** be the last thing I do, or I won't have a chance to witness the funeral and save Holly… Now who could give me a warrior crash course?_

"…_never hesitate to tell me if you need the shaman's help. Or mine."_ That was what Attila had told him at the feast a few days earlier. Perhaps it was time to remind the king of his promise…

Artemis stood up to walk back into the camp and seek an audience with Attila when his glance fell on Fiona conversing with another tiny person behind a beech tree. The other one seemed to be an elf too, and Artemis had a suspicion that it was Holly's grandfather.

The two elves apparently thought to be far away enough from the camp to be unseen and unheard by the Mud People and they hadn't even spotted Artemis.

The Irishman decided not to disturb them – after all, they needed to develop their relationship to be able to create Holly's father sooner or later…

Bending to keep out of the elves' sight as much as possible, Artemis hurried back towards the camp.

o o o O O O o o o

"They died?" Fiona's eyes widened. "All of them?"

"Yeah." Alexius nodded with a sad expression. "Not that I loved my cousin and his parents… they were a bunch of jerks, but… they were relatives. And they're gone."

Fiona felt like saying 'I'm sorry', but then remembered that Rufus Short had wanted to have her killed, and decided against it. Perhaps she shouldn't even mention the attack to Alex. He was upset enough even without that…

"There's only one good thing about their death… if one can say such thing." The male elf made a grimace. "They can no longer stand in our way."

"So, you haven't given up on me, huh?" Fiona gave him a sad smile.

He shook his head seriously. "I haven't. And you promised to give me a chance…"

"I know. And I _am_ giving you a chance," she sighed. "Perhaps I should visit you underground some day… just to see where you live…"

"That would be brilliant!" Alexius's face lit up. "You'd love it there! 'Course, it's not as green and fresh-aired as it's here, but… if you don't like my place, we could move to Haven. It's going to be the city of every fairy's dreams. At least that's how they're advertising the apartments for sale. Funny that the city isn't even finished to move in, but the free estate agents are already selling the houses. Just tell me Fiona, and I'll buy one there. Or we could buy it together. You could choose it if you like."

Alexius Short's eyes were so sincere, so puppy-like… Fiona couldn't resist the temptation to reach out and caress his face. "I'll think of it, Alex, I promise. Until then, give me your current address, in case I feel like paying you a visit."

o o o O O O o o o

_Mandrake Crescent, Lower Elements, one a.m., 16th July, 2016_

"It was a wonderful evening, Julius," Wing-Commander Vinyáya said, stopping in front of the door of her house. "Thank you."

"Oh, no need to thank, Annie… Actually, it's me who owes you a thank-you. It was your idea to go on a… to have dinner together," Root replied, embarrassedly tugging at his beard.

"Well, then… good night," she said, but didn't budge from the doorstep. Probably she was waiting for something… but what? Julius couldn't tell.

"Er… yes, good night, Annie…" he mumbled.

She inched a little closer to him, her eyes never leaving his. What was she planning? – he thought. Surely not…? But what if…?

Julius suddenly felt his heart hammering against his ribcage – something that only happened to him in life-threatening situations.

Holy Frond, it had been centuries since he'd last kissed a woman! After a short and unfortunate marriage and a quick divorce, Root had been a loner and never thought that life would some day again grace him with the chance of love…

Love? 

She leaned even closer, and their lips were only inches apart, when Root's comlink buzzed.

"D'Arvit," he swore, pulling away from Vinyáya and fishing the tiny gadget out of his pocket. "Root here!" he barked into it, turning away from the woman. "What, you, Foaly? WHAT? Holly's free? Escaped?" The news was so overwhelming and exhilarating that it made him completely forget about the outside world. "Thank Frond! Still no news from Fowl? What the heck could have happened with that boy? What? She doesn't want to return to Fowl Manor? And she's right! Tell her to stay with those Star Wars freaks, she'll be safe with them for a while. And tell me if there's anything new!"

He switched off the comlink with an enraptured expression. "She's free," he whispered.

"Indeed?" a voice spoke up behind him.

Root froze. Vinyáya was still there. Of course she was still there! And he'd blabbered about Holly and Fowl in front of her! D'Arvit, d'Arvit, d'Arvit!

He slowly turned around to see the black-haired woman leaning against the door of her house, her arms folded before her chest, her eyebrows raised in a challenging way. "Holly escaped? From where? I thought she was in Atlantis, taking care of her sick aunt… And Fowl? Didn't he give us his word not to contact the fairies ever again?"

"Er…" Root tried to loosen the neck of his uniform because he felt that suddenly the temperature in Haven had rose by at least twenty Celsius degrees. "I… I can explain it, Annie."

"I'm eagerly awaiting it," she replied. "Come in. I assume you have a lot of explaining to do."

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N**: almost forgot. I made a little **New Year's present** for you guys. You can find it in my yahoo group (link to the group in my ffnet bio), in the Files/Miscellaneous section. Click on '**AFsummaryexecution**'. It's a collection of the most hilarious Artemis Fowl fanfic summaries that can be found on this wonderful, wonderful site. It's a laugh, and it is only meant to entertain you not to offend anyone, that's why the authors of the fics are **not** mentioned (I don't even remember who wrote the fics that made my list, I just read their summaries). And yes, you need to be a member of my group to access the file…

Secondly, we have had an **AF Christmas art challenge** in my deviantart AF group (ArtemisFowlfc – link in my profile). Go and check out the entries, and if you have a devart account, you can even vote for your favourite!

**And now: see that nice, lilac button down there? Click on it, please and share your thoughts on this chapter with me!**


	12. The Last Acorn

**A/N:** review responses sent out as usual. If you reviewed and didn't get my answer or don't see your name below, do tell me, please.

**Also thanks to: _Mistri, Tonks' Admirer, Mousewolf, Epsilon2Delta (I don't really like crossovers so won't write one), an-angel-in-hell, AnnieThePipster, QueenDragon, aperfectattitude, The OddBird, J. Dawnwolf, specklednewt, Rebel Rose, Anonymous, hello, Eclectus, refloc, artemisfowl12, ebtwisty9, SPG, Marissa the Scamp, Tritium, Fleury, Caryn, frenchpiment, __Chibi Binasu-chan_, _the Thirteenth Councilor, Lii_ **

**Chapter 12**

**The Last Acorn**

"I can't believe it." Wing-Commander Vinyáya shook her head. "I knew you to be always so level-headed, so considerate, so… loyal to the People and the LEP, and this whole Holly affair is just…"

"I know," Root sighed. "But I had no other choice but to encourage her to go to her Mud Boy."

"Why?" She looked at him questioningly.

A sad smile appeared on Root's face. "Because she loves him. And I wanted to see her happy. So simple. I know that I broke a dozen fairy rules and persuaded her to do the same, but… I felt I had to. Don't you understand it, Annie?"

His expression was so full of emotions: love for his 'would-be daughter' Holly, worry for her, and a silent apology to the People to whom he had lied for the past few months.

"Oh, I do, Julius." She reached out and squeezed his hand. "Or at least, I'm trying to understand it. And I'm beginning to see you from a new angle."

"What new angle?" He raised a greyish eyebrow at her.

"Well… so far you've only been a commander… a strict, determined commander, but still just a commander who ordered people around according to what he saw fit. Now I see your softer side…"

"And…?" He gulped.

Her lips tucked into a smile. "I like it."

Julius felt his heart soar seeing her smile. "Do… do you? Er… good. I presume I can trust you to keep this a secret? The whole Holly business?"

"Of course you can," she said. "I still don't approve of it, but I can understand it. However… Holly being pregnant with Fowl's child… I can't help but feel disgusted… And it's dangerous too… That kid could turn out really bad with a mixture of elf and human genes…"

"Let's hope that it doesn't turn out any worse than Patrick…"

"Patrick?" Vinyáya sucked in her breath. "You don't mean he's… he's too…"

"Have I forgotten to mention that little detail?" Root scratched his head. "Possible… So yeah, Patrick too is Holly and Artemis's son."

Annie could only blink and gape like a fish.

"He was a breeding project… a fertilised egg developed in a womb-simulator. Fowl didn't even know about it before little Pat was kidnapped."

"So… so that's why Short asked the Mud Man to help her find the boy! Because he was the father! Well, that at least explains the boy's exceptional intellect…"

"Yeah, it does, doesn't it?" Root smiled. "Let's just hope that the next little Fowl turns out just as wonderfully as our Patrick did."

Vinyáya nodded, but her face didn't reveal much confidence. "Lucky that Holly managed to escape from that Mud Man… Frond knows what he could have done to her and her unborn child! But I seriously don't like the idea of Fowl being back in time…" She shook her head with a contemplative look. "So many things could go wrong with time-travel…"

"That's the rub of it… something must have gone wrong already," Root replied. "Fowl was supposed to return to our time around the same time he'd left into the past, and that was around four p.m., yesterday. And there's still no news about him… I'm starting to be worried."

"I wish I could tell you something to cheer you up… At least Patrick's with him. Even if Fowl is no genius anymore, the boy still is. He won't do anything unreasonable, and won't let his father do anything of the sort either."

"Yes, but you forget that Mulch Diggums is with them too. And no power on or under earth can prevent that dwarf from doing something he wants to do."

Vinyáya made a grimace. "You know, _now_ I'm starting to get worried too."

o o o O O O o o o

_Attila's camp, 14th April, 453 A.D._

"You wished to speak to me alone." Attila motioned Artemis to sit down on the thick carpet before his throne. "Normally I don't send my guards and other people waiting for the audience out, but you made me curious with your special request. No one ever dared to ask me for a private audience…"

"Never, your majesty?" Artemis looked politely surprised. "Then I feel most honoured that you agreed to receive me alone."

"Don't feel honoured, I just did it out of curiosity… and to annoy the envoys of the Roman Emperor," Attila replied with a wink. "Let them wait a bit. Or… a lot."

Artemis couldn't hide a grin – he was beginning to like the Hun king. Attila was as different from the standard royalty as possible: not only did he wear simple clothes and ate from wooden plates but he had a sense of humour as well. It almost shocked Artemis that he liked someone with a sense of humour. He had never been the type to appreciate funny people and their stupid jokes. Maybe _he_ was changing too, not only his son…

"Well, then, let me hear your problem, Artemis Faulus."

The young Irishman took a deep breath. "It's about the fighting festivity to be held in two days, your majesty."

"Oh. Do you wish to take part?"

"Not really, but I have to…"

"Have to?" Attila arched a black eyebrow at him. "There's no such thing as 'have to', at least not at this festivity. Everyone takes part of their own free will."

"Let me explain it, then…" And Artemis shortly summarised Patrick's deeds to the king. "So, you see, my little brother got me into a bit of… or rather a lot of trouble."

"I don't see why it would be a lot of trouble for you to participate in the fights. It's just a game till first blood, not a fight till death…"

"I suppose that should be very reassuring… but it isn't," Artemis muttered. "Your majesty… I wouldn't mind fighting if I knew how to… defend myself." He gazed at the carpet, feeling embarrassed – rare thing for a Fowl! The Hun king surely regarded a man who couldn't fight as a useless, worth-nothing person. Slowly, he looked up to meet Attila's gaze. "In our country not every young boy is trained to fight. Actually… I was meant to become a priest, so got an ecclesiastical upbringing. The monks didn't teach me how to use a sabre or how to shoot an arrow. Well, I learnt the latter on my own, but… I still cannot duel."

"And how come you're about to marry a Thracian woman now, if you were meant to be a priest?" Attila asked, his expression radiating extreme interest.

Artemis was more than relieved to see that the king didn't look at him as though he were a stinkworm, so, feeling encouraged, he carried on with his tale. "My older brother, the firstborn, was trained to be a fighter while I was taught to be become a priest. My priest training was almost over when my older brother died. He was to inherit the family fortune and marry Honoria of Thracia… but with his death, I became the heir. So I had to leave the cloister before I would have been ordained a priest, and I will have to marry my late brother's fiancée. That's the story, your majesty."

"I see." Attila nodded. "But I still don't understand what I can do for you."

"I'd like to be trained. I still have two days before that festivity."

The king gave him an amused look. "Do you think you could learn to fight in two days? Your opponent, whoever it might be-"

"It's someone called Keve…"

"Keve, eh? Well, sorry to disappoint you, Artemis Faulus, but Keve is one of our best warriors. He has been trained since he was three, like most Hun boys. Against him you don't stand a chance."

"I know I don't… I mean, I know I couldn't _defeat_ him, it's against all the rules of logic… All I would like to know is how to defend myself enough to stay alive. Even if the fight is only till first blood, I might get unfortunate enough that my first wound is lethal…"

Attila seemed to be thinking for a moment. "All right, Artemis Faulus. Come with me."

He rose from the throne, and the Irishman stood up from the carpet and followed him out of the tent.

"Your majesty?" a seemingly high-born Hun asked at the tent's 'door', "what about the audience?"

"Cancelled for today," the king replied.

"But… but… your majesty! There are still seventeen noblemen waiting, not to mention the envoys of the Emperor!"

"Tell them to come back tomorrow," Attila said. "This way, Artemis Faulus."

o o o O O O o o o

_The pension near Dublin, eight a.m., 16th July, 2016_

Holly awoke to be gently shaken by someone. "Hey, wakie-wakie, princess!"

Holly rubbed her eyes, yawned and saw three pairs of eyes looking down at her. She tried to arrange her thoughts to form a more or less coherent pattern in her mind, and suddenly remembered who these people were. Of course, the Irish Star Wars fans… She remembered having contacted Foaly, then having climbed upstairs around two in the morning and having lied down somewhere in the darkness. Now that she looked around, that 'somewhere' she had laid down on turned out to be a heap of crumpled Jedi robes on the carpet. Well, it had felt soft and comfortable enough as she had felt around in the darkness and she hadn't wanted to wake the three friends by turning on the lights. But now the robes were all crumpled.

"Uh… sorry 'bout ruining your robes," she said, picking the soft, maroon material off the ground and holding it out for Doug. "Perhaps I could ask the owner if he had an iron or something…"

"Ah, forget about it." Doug waved. "Sitting in the car would wrinkle it anyway…"

"Shall we go downstairs to have breakfast, boys?" Jerry suggested. "Holly can wash up until then and we'll pick up a few slices of bread for her too. By the way, where do you intend to go from here, Holly?"

"That's a really good question," she replied. "Would you mind if I joined you at the Star Wars fans meeting? I like those movies too…" _And I can't go home, Foaly told me that even Root agreed I shouldn't go home as long as Artemis's away_… "I have nothing better to do right now."

"Great!" Nate clasped his hands. "But I think you should get something more appropriate to wear…"

"Oh yeah…" Holly glanced down at her torn, wrinkly wedding dress that barely resembled a wedding dress anymore, then glanced at the clock on the wall. "Problem is, I don't have any money on me. And even if I did, I doubt that any clothes shops were open at eight o'clock… They usually open at ten."

"No worries about that, dear." Doug smiled at her brightly. "I happen to have spare robes in the car's boot. You could pass for a random Jedi."

"Mara Jade, I'm telling you," Nate said, grinning.

"When are you going to give up on Mara, eh?" Jerry shook his head. "As Han Solo, you should be interested in Leia instead…"

"I'll bring you the robes, then," Doug cut in to stop any possible 'who's the hottest SW female' debates. "And you guys go, fetch breakfast!"

Jerry nodded, pulling Nate out the door. Before the door closed, Holly could hear Nate say 'Mara's still the hottest, you know!'.

Chuckling, she walked into the bathroom. No doubt, her new friends were a bunch of madmen… but amusing madmen, to say the least.

o o o O O O o o o

_Attila's camp, 14th April, 453 A.D._

Patrick sat among a bunch of Hun children and younger adults and watched as the greatest Hun shaman, Seer of Stars chanted something while beating his drum. Wisps of smoke rose from a cauldron at his side, and he seemed to be in a deep stupor.

A stag-shaped wisp rose from the cauldron, followed by another one that formed two warriors on horses. The horsemen began to chase the stag.

Some children squealed with delight and applauded. Such shows must have been like rare television broadcasts for them, Patrick thought.

"What's this supposed to be?" he whispered to Irnik who sat next to him, and tried to ignore the fact that Csenge was sitting on his other side.

"It's a legend about Hunor and Magor," Irnik replied as quietly as possible. "They were the sons of Nimrod and they began chasing a stag that led them to a wonderful land. Hunor is the ancestor of the Huns, and Magor is the ancestor of the Hungarians."

"Oh, I see." Patrick nodded. So perhaps it was true that the Hungarians were related to the Huns… Since he had the gift of languages like all the fairies, Patrick knew that the Hungarians called themselves 'magyar' in Hungarian. The word 'magyar' must have come from the name of their legendary ancestor, Magor.

After a few minutes, Seer of Stars came out of his stupor and the wisps of smoke disappeared. Some of the younger children gave out disappointed groans, just like modern-time kids when their parents turn off their television and send them off to bed.

"That was nice, shaman, but why not predict something for us, eh?" Aladár spoke up in his usual sharp, demanding tone.

Many of the children and even some of the younger men cheered at the idea.

"For whom shall I predict something?" the shaman asked.

Before Aladár could have opened his mouth to request a prophecy for himself, his brother Csaba said 'Me'.

Patrick hadn't even noticed the older prince in the crowd and was now surprised to see him – but pleasantly surprised. At least Aladár didn't get what he wanted.

Now that he looked around more carefully, Patrick spotted Aladár's mother Krimhilda among a bunch of handmaidens, standing as far from the shaman as possible, but still listening to his every word.

"Well, then, noble prince…" Seer of Stars began a new chant and started beating his drum at an even quicker rhythm than before. It took several minutes before anything happened and the crowd was getting impatient when the shaman finally spoke up in a sing-song voice. "I see… I see… Prince Csaba is stronger than any men in this camp, save his father… He can't be hurt by a mere sword, nor an arrow or a dagger… Only a magical weapon can defeat him… Strong he is… very strong…"

Patrick, along with everyone around, glanced at Csaba, who seemed to be half-proud, half-embarrassed by the shaman's words.

Suddenly the crowd parted to let Attila to his eldest son. To Patrick's surprise, Artemis was walking in the king's wake. At the sight of his father, a new wave of guilt washed over the boy. He had merely agreed to come with Irnik to this little 'show' to forget about Artemis's ire, but now he couldn't not think of it.

Artemis didn't seem to notice his son among the other children – even if the redhead shone out of the sea of black hair. Patrick half-expected to see his father angry or sad, but Artemis seemed to be neither. He rather looked like a person full of anticipation.

Irnik shot his new friend a questioning glance, but Patrick only shrugged, not having the slightest idea what was happening. They watched as Attila and Csaba exchanged a few words, then the prince left with his father and Artemis.

"What was that about?" Irnik wondered.

o o o O O O o o o

_The motorway between Dublin and Drogheda, ten a.m., 16th July, 2016_

After Holly had got into the car with the three friends, she tried to take part in their conversation as much as possible, but since all Doug, Nate and Jerry could talk about was the designs of the Nubian spaceship whose hyperdrive was malfunctioning or the special TIE fighter Vader had flown in the battle of Yavin, Holly soon gave up on trying to add her two pennies.

It seemed that after a while, even the trio got bored of analysing the manoeuvrability of the All Terrain Armoured Transports and began listening to a CD. To Holly's not so big surprise, it turned out to be the soundtrack of Star Wars – A New Hope. She had to admit that she actually liked that soundtrack. The binary sunset theme lulled her into a sleep (she hadn't got much of sleep over the night) and only the Yavin throne room celebration's theme woke her up with its fanfares. However, she decided to pretend that she was still in a half-slumber and watched the Irish countryside swish past them through half-closed eyelids. The greenness of the 'Emerald Isle' never ceased to amaze her, and even now she felt enraptured with its beauty. It was simple, more or less flat – barely a hill here or there – but it felt so peaceful, so unspoilt, so perfect…

A sleepy voice inside her head told her that perhaps a Lord of the Dance CD would fit the surroundings better than what her companions were listening to right now, but she was too tired to say it aloud.

Absentmindedly, she listened to the music and established that it was definitely not the Star Wars soundtrack anymore. But it _had to_ have something to do with Star Wars, as the singer kept repeating the line '_Soon I'm gonna be a Jedi'_.

"Like it, Holly?" Jerry grinned at her. "Weird Al Yancovitch's song. _Anakin guy_. My favourite!"

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Holly just smiled. "Nice," she muttered, letting herself sink back into a half-stupor and watch the emerald fields swoop by. Here and there she spotted a few villages, and once she thought she'd seen a bigger, dark-looking building that must have been some castle long abandoned by its owners.

"What've you got there?" Doug (who was driving now instead of Nate) glanced at the newspaper in Nate's hand.

"Just some stupid magazine I found in the glove compartment," Nate replied. "Clarissa must've forgotten it here about a week ago. You know, _my girlfriend_…"

"We know," Jerry snickered. "Just have many times has he mentioned he'd hooked up with this Clarissa, eh, Doug?"

"Dunno, once… or twice…"

"Twelve… or thirty times…" Jerry carried on.

Nate gave them a patronising stare. "You guys are so childish…"

_No surprise here_, Holly thought, suppressing the urge to grin. People who dressed up as Wookiees, Captain Solos and Jedi Knights couldn't be anything else but childish… _Then again, aren't I wearing Jedi robes right now?_

"Tell you what, I bet the only reason our Nate's drooling over Clarissa is that she resembles his imaginary Mara Jade," Doug said casually.

"Do you mean she doesn't have any other values?" Nate tried to look hurt, then a grin spread on his face. "Well, you're probably right, old buddy. No woman in their right mind would read such filth as this…" He showed the magazine to the others to see its title printed in huge, pink letters: _The Rich and Famous_, then opened it and began turning over the pages. "Why, listen to this… _Prince Harry's secret liaison with Pamela Anderson is not a secret anymore. We've heard from a trustworthy source of information that_… blah-blah-blah… rubbish, I'm telling you." He turned over a page, focusing his attention on an article on the right. "Or this: _Michael Jackson_…"

"Don't even continue," Jerry cut in.

_Completely agree_, Holly thought, glancing at the newspaper in Nate's hand.

Her blood froze.

Nate had started to read out the article on the right hand side and his eyes must have skipped over the one on the left that said: '_Wedding of the year: Multimillionaire Artemis Fowl_…'

Holly didn't even read the full title, just stared at the picture under it: a photo of herself and Artemis standing in front of the altar, facing Father Brian. The photo showed her profile and wasn't the best one ever made of her, but it was recognisable enough.

She chose the only possible option. "I think I'm going to…" she whispered, dropping herself back into the seat as though she'd fainted.

"Holly!" All three friends turned to look at her at once.

"You mind the steering wheel, you idiot," Nate snapped at Doug and turned completely around in the passenger seat.

Jerry was already patting Holly's cheek, trying to make her come round.

"What…?" She opened her eyes as groggily as she could pretend.

"Whew, you got us all scared, girl," Nate heaved a sigh of relief.

"Sorry. Must be due to my pregnancy," she mumbled. "And it's too warm… don't you think?"

"Here." Nate began fanning her with the magazine, thankfully with the Michael Jackson article on the top. "Feel any better?"

"Thanks. I think I could do it myself…" Holly took the magazine from him and continued fanning herself, careful to hold it in a way so that the wedding article would be facing in her direction all the time.

That had been close. Not that she would have really minded if the trio found out who she was married to, but it was still better and safer this way. They didn't need to know she was the wife of a millionaire… Certainly they didn't seem the sort to kidnap anyone for ransom, but Holly had been kidnapped enough times in her life to be careful and not to trust anyone completely.

Now all she had to do was to wait for a particularly strong gust of wind, drop the magazine and pretend the wind had swept it out of her hand. And do all this with a radiant, innocent smile. No problem at all.

o o o O O O o o o

_Krimhilda's tent, Attila's camp, 14th April, 453_

"I could sing and dance for joy, Detre!" Queen Krimhilda hugged the astonished toady. "As if my greatest dream had come true! It's all perfect!"

"What is perfect, milady?" Detre asked, carefully disentangling himself from her embrace.

"Our plan! To get Csaba killed!"

"Is it?" The German looked confused.

"I've just heard wonderful news, my faithful servant!" The queen clasped her hands in delight. "Seer of Stars has given Csaba a prediction. He said that Csaba could only be destroyed by a magical weapon!"

"I don't see why this would give us any reason to feel happy, milady…"

"Ah, you ignorant fool!" She waved. "Can you think of a magical weapon?"

"Only of one, my queen, but… that belongs to your husband."

"Exactly." She nodded. "Csaba will be killed by the Sword of God."

"But… but… milady! Attila never parts with that sword, you know that! He never does!"

A sly smile spread on the woman's face. "He did it once… on our wedding night. I remember I told him that him coming near my bridal bed with a sword would scare me… and he was so sweet and asked Réka to take care of his beloved sword for the duration of the wedding night…"

Detre nodded. Of course, who else would Attila have entrusted the Sword of God with than his first wife Réka?

"All I have to do is convince little Mikolt to tell him the same," Krimhilda carried on. "She's the gullible sort, so that will be no problem. Attila would never want to scare an innocent virgin on their wedding night… And I will willingly volunteer to take care of the sword for that single night…"

"But… won't you be suspected of murder, then, my queen?" Detre furrowed his brow.

The woman rolled her eyes. "Of course not. _I was taking good care of the precious sword, but someone evil came and stole it from me! They even knocked me out_…" she said in a whiny voice. "I will pretend to be unconscious for a while, perhaps even smear a bit of blood on my scalp, let them believe I was attacked. And certainly I was out cold when Csaba was assassinated, so I'm above suspicion. And then…"

"And then?"

"And then the assassin is going to hide the sword in Artemis Faulus' tent. Once the dead body of the prince is found, everyone will remember the shaman's prophecy and there will be a search for the Sword. It will be found in the Brit's tent and there will be no way for them to talk themselves out of it. They will be executed, of course, and there will be no trouble. My Aladár will inherit the throne, and everyone will be happy. Like my plan?"

The German man smirked. "I do like it, milady. But what if more evidence is needed against the Fauluses? They could say anyone could have hidden that sword in their tent…"

The queen seemed contemplative for a minute. "That can be taken care of, quite easily. We'll say they're Roman spies… Roman assassins, actually. They might come from Britannia, but their names sound very Roman to me… for all we know, they _could be_ spies. In their tent, we could hide a fake letter from the Roman Emperor or something… I could write that letter – I'm fluent in Latin and I can distort my handwriting enough so that no one would recognise it. Attila's receiving the emperor's envoys right now, and any of them could have brought Faulus-the-spy a letter with final instructions from the emperor on how to kill the prince…"

Detre couldn't help but smirk. "And they say women aren't fit to rule a country… My queen, you're cleverer than any man I've ever known."

"I know, my faithful Detre." Krimhilda beamed. "I know."

o o o O O O o o o

"Patricius?"

Patrick turned around to see Csenge staring at him. He had just wanted to leave the square where Seer of Stars had given Prince Csaba that particular prediction.

"Why don't you leave him alone, eh, sis?" Irnik snapped at the girl. "We are busy, you know!"

"Busy, oh, yeah." Csenge waved with a knowing expression. "You want to sneak after the king, the prince and Patricius's brother to find out what they are up to… am I right?"

"No, you're absolutely wrong, and now-"

Irnik couldn't finish his sentence, because Patrick clamped a hand over his friend's mouth. "Be nicer to your sister, okay?"

Irnik frowned, but nodded, so Patrick released him.

"Good. You wait for me by the Big Tent, and then we can go snooping around the royals, okay?" He sent the Hun boy the grin of a true accomplice.

"And why wait for you there? I could listen to whatever my sister wants to tell you," Irnik said defiantly.

Patrick made a grimace and Csenge shook her head.

"Why not?" Irnik questioned. "Whatever Patricius has to hear, I can hear too, can't I?"

"No," Csenge replied firmly. "Because it's about… your birthday present."

"My birthday? But that isn't for another two months!"

"And Patricius won't be around then, so I need to ask for his advice now," the girl said, her voice peremptory. "Leave now!"

Rolling his eyes, Irnik turned to leave. "But it better be a good present, you know…"

o o o O O O o o o

"I didn't know that giving birthday presents was a custom at this age… er, I mean, at Pannonia," Patrick quickly corrected himself.

"Oh well, not everybody gives their loved ones presents, but some do," the girl replied. "The Romans do it at least, so I heard. Some of the Huns adopted the custom out of snobbism. But of course we never do it as precisely as the Romans…"

"What do you mean by precise?"

"I heard that the Romans – or at least the rich Romans – know the exact day their child was born on. We don't, because we don't use that cal… cal… what's that called?"

"Calendar?" Patrick helped her out, not even noticing that she had already led him out of the square and they were walking in an alley between tents.

"Yeah, that one." She nodded. "We only know our birth dates by seasons and other events. Like, I was born when the first snow fell."

"November, then?"

"Dunno, what's November?" She smiled up on him innocently. That smile made his stomach do those funny flip-flops that it always did when she was around.

"Never mind."

"When were you born?" she asked.

"Around this time of the year," the boy replied. "Well, just a little earlier. My birthday was fifteen days ago."

"And how old are you exactly?"

_Minus 1551_, he thought, but aloud he only said "Twelve".

"Twelve already? And when are you going to get married?"

"What?" Patrick gasped and stopped in his stride.

"Some Hun boys get married at twelve already. I thought you in Britannia did too…" She shrugged.

"No," he replied, his cheeks glowing. Could Hun boys be developed so early to be able to fulfil their 'duties as a husband' at such a young age? Well, he knew that boys and girls at earlier ages developed quicker than in modern times because their life-expectancy was shorter too, but he still couldn't imagine anyone getting married at twelve. "We don't. People in my country marry much later."

"Like your brother? I mean, he's oooooold to be a single! I heard he was about to get married soon and wondered what made him wait so long…"

"That's something you should ask him," Patrick answered, careful not to say anything that might get his father into more trouble. He had caused poor Artemis too much trouble already, no need to add some more…

"Oh… Well, do you know why I wanted to talk to you without Irnik around?"

"To ask when my birthday was?" He gave her a half-hearted smile.

"No, not really…" She blushed. "I was wondering whether you loved stargazing…"

"I haven't done much stargazing yet, but I think I do like it…" He stared down at his boots, feeling his cheeks turn even redder. Was she trying to ask him out on a date? "Why?"

"Would you like to come stargazing with me one night?"

He looked up, her straightforward question startling him. Certainly, he _had_ expected something like this, but it still surprised him. _He_ surely wouldn't have been brave enough to ask her out on a date…

"Er… I think I would…"

"Great." She smiled. "What about in two days? Tonight I will have to help Mum with the dinner, tomorrow we'll be decorating the wedding tent, but on the king's wedding night I'm free. Meet me by the three beech trees near your tent. From the meadow we'll have a lovely view of the stars…"

"O…okay," he muttered. "And when shall we meet?"

"When? Not right after sunset, obviously. We'll have to give the stars time to appear."

_If only she told me to meet her at ten p.m.… But no, they don't have clocks…_ "All right, I'll be there as soon as the stars are visible."

"Good. And don't tell Irnik! He'd only ruin it for us." She stood on tiptoes and gave him a peck on the cheek, then hurried off.

_Now that will be hard to keep from your brother…_ – He watched as she disappeared behind a tent, gently massaging the spot she'd kissed.

In five minutes he joined his friend who was indeed waiting for him by the Big Tent where Attila usually held his audiences.

"So, did you manage to give her a nice idea for a gift?"

Patrick just grinned at the Hun boy. "Of course I have. Now, shall we follow the royals and my brother?"

"You bet! I want to find out what they are up to! They went in that direction… hope we can catch up with them…"

o o o O O O o o o

_Cesare Cavalieri's manor, 10 a.m., 16th July, 2016_

"Please, calm down, dear Emese." The archaeologist held up his hands in a placating manner.

"Calm down! Calm down? How can you expect that of me, Cesare?" the woman yelled. "The little tramp's escaped, and with her my hopes and dreams of owning the Sword of God!"

"Let me remind you that you're not the only one who lost something due to Mrs Fowl's escape," the Italian man said stoically. "I lost my chance to make the greatest archaeological revelation of the century. Well, of course…"

"Of course what?" Emese Hunfalvy asked, now interest mingling with anger on her pretty features.

"Weeeell… Let's assume that the little fairy doesn't contact Fowl Manor at once to tell them that she's escaped. Let's assume she's cautious, believing that the manor has bugs – after all how else could we have found out that her precious husband left for Hungary? The girl must think the manor's full of our spy cameras. And if she's got any sense – and I know she does – she will be careful not to contact the manor just yet. So young Artemis might return from Hungary in the belief that his wife is still in our custody… and he'll deliver the information we need."

"You want us to bluff?" Emese arched an eyebrow at her boss.

"Why not? We can't lose anything if we do. We can't lose _anything more_ than we already have."

The woman seemed contemplative for a moment, then nodded. "All right, then. I suggest you pay your dear friend Artemis the First a visit today. If Holly's back, you might catch a glimpse of her. Or even if she doesn't appear to greet you, you can still find out things by just analysing your friend Timmy's behaviour. You said last time he looked devastated, even if he was trying to hide it. If Holly's back, his good mood will be back as well."

"_Va bene_. Good idea, my beautiful accomplice." Cesare gave her a grim smile. "Nothing's lost yet. You still might get your desired sword and… what do you need it for again?"

"Nothing special, just a bit of world dominance." She smiled back, her smile icy.

"And may I ask why you wish to rule the world, dear Emese?" Cavalieri asked, sitting back in his armchair.

"You think I'm kidding, don't you?" She crossed her arms. "You think I'm a lunatic, eh? Well, I am not. That sword is magical. It has the power to help its bearer rule the world. That's why Lord of Wars forged it."

"Just like Excalibur?" Cesare looked amused.

"Almost," Emese replied coldly. "But there's one huge difference between Excalibur and the Sword of God. The latter is real. And had Attila lived a little longer, he would have conquered the then known world with its help."

"I'm sure he would have," Cavalieri drawled, "but do tell, how are you planning to conquer the world with a _sword_? We're living in a modern world, dear Miss Hunfalvy. Today's wars are fought with nuclear weapons not pieces of old metal."

"True." She nodded. "But none of the nuclear weapons have magic powers. That sword does. And I will learn to use it to rule the world. At all costs."

"Feel free to, my dear, feel free to. But make sure that if you're queen of Earth, I still get to be the most famous archaeologist for finding Attila's grave."

The woman gave the man a contemptuous look. He didn't believe her. He thought she was a raving maniac. But that she was not. She was Attila's only living descendant, and she'd make her great ancestor's dream come true: she'd rule the world.

o o o O O O o o o

_The meadow near Attila's camp, 14th April, 453_

"You expect me to train him… in just two days?" Csaba gave his father an incredulous look.

"You can do it, Son. You're one of the best warriors and definitely a good teacher. I remember watching you teach Aladár," the king replied. "And I hope you agree that we can't let our friend Artemis Faulus into a fight with Keve untrained…"

"Of course I do," Csaba heaved a sigh and turned to the Irishman. "Do you feel you're up to it? It's going to be two extremely hard days for you."

Artemis nodded solemnly. "I've endured enough hardships already, two days of warrior training can't be _that_ bad." In reality he wasn't as confident as he sounded, but he tried to convince himself that after riding the Mayak Chemical train on the Arctic, fighting his way across the Mexican jungle and enduring all the mosquito bites, attack by a gecko plus a jaguar, and getting shot by arrows and bullets, he could easily survive a bit of training in hand-to-hand combat. And then perhaps he could survive the actual duel as well.

"Well, if you think so." Csaba shrugged. "We're going to start your training in the afternoon. Meet me where the creek disappears underground."

Artemis nodded, knowing which place the prince meant – he had been there once already. It was a nice little clearing not deep into the forest, but it was thankfully surrounded by bushes enough to block it from the sight of anyone who happened to linger on the nearby meadow.

o o o O O O o o o

The two boys reached the three adults just in time to catch the last words of their conversation. Thankfully the boys' eavesdropping went unnoticed by the adults as they hid in the bushes on the edge of the meadow, about ten feet from where Attila asked his son to train Artemis. Clearly Attila didn't want anyone to overhear them, that's why he'd chosen the meadow 'far from civilisation' to have this conversation.

After the adults departed, Patrick and Irnik exchanged a mischievous grin.

"To the creek, then?" Irnik asked.

"To the creek." Patrick nodded. "If we get there much earlier than them, we can find a decent hiding place from where we can witness the whole training session."

"Do you know you're starting to behave more and more like a twelve-year-old every day?" The Hun boy grinned. "I remember when I first met you – you were as cold as an icicle and as aloof as _Prince_ Aladár…"

"Take that back." Patrick pretended to be hurt. "I was _never _as horrible as He-Who-Has-A-Little-Problem-With-His-Mind…"

o o o O O O o o o

After the heavy rains just three days ago, the creek looked like a smaller river now. Instead of peacefully gurgling and babbling in its stony bed, it ran across the forest at a greater speed and with four times as much water as normal.

Near the well-hidden clearing, there were a few big rocks overgrown with moss, forming what resembled the opening of a cave. However that 'cave' continued in a network of underground channels. Patrick suspected that the water running in one of those channels must have ruined Rufus Short's home.

The boys settled down by the creek, munching on the slices of bread Irnik had nicked from home after breakfast.

The weather was starting to be unusually hot for the middle of April, even in a shady place like this.

After 'lunch', Patrick drowsily watched the golden patterns that the sun's rays filtering through the foliage painted on the waves. There was no wind at all, only a few butterflies and bumblebees drifted lazily across the air.

"What're you doing?" Patrick muttered as his friend began to undress.

"Take a bath, what else? I can't bear this hotness anymore," Irnik replied, dropping his tunic and trousers and waded into the water. "Care to join?"

"No, thanks, I catch a cold easily." Patrick shook his head, loosening his tunic's neck a bit. "But I suppose washing my face won't do any harm…"

He crept to the creek and splashed cool water on his face.

"Hey, what's that?" Irnik pointed at something dangling from Patrick's neck.

"That? Nothing." Patrick quickly tried to stuff the Book and the glass sphere with an acorn back into his tunic, cursing his own stupidity. His so-far closed tunic had kept his 'pendants' out of sight, but now that Irnik had seen them, he would have to make up something to explain what those were.

"Definitely not nothing," the Hun boy waded out of the creek, waving with his hand to chase a bumblebee away. "Magic pendants, eh? Let me see them!"

"I shouldn't…"

"Pleeeease…"

"Only if you don't touch the booklet. It has powers that can burn your hand. Burn anyone's hand save mine."

"Okay, I promise I won't touch it."

Patrick hesitated for a few seconds, then fished his pendants out of the neck of his tunic. "Nothing special, see? Just a book and an acorn."

"Pretty book…" Irnik said, eyeing it. "Don't worry, I don't intend to touch it. But what are you carrying an acorn for? And what kind of funny, see-through thing is that?" Before Patrick could have stopped him, Irnik caught the glass sphere – a bit too vehemently, as the string holding it tore. "Whoops, sorry. Didn't mean to…" Irnik shook the sphere and the acorn rattled inside it. "What's this see-through thingie made of?"

"Glass, and give it back here," Patrick held out his right demandingly.

"Glass? What is that? Hey… Go away, you…" The bumblebee he had already tried to chase away, had apparently decided that stalking and preferably stinging Irnik was a good idea. The boy put up a fight, flailing with his hands. "You annoying little…"

"Watch out…!" Patrick shouted, but it was too late. The glass sphere landed in the water.

Without thinking, Patrick jumped into the creek after it, but the current was too strong and quick for him to reach it. Within a few seconds, the precious acorn got sucked into the underground water channel. "Noooooo!"

"What?" Irnik looked around, searching for his friend. His battle with the bumblebee had ended and the insect had decided to leave him alone at last, but in the heat of the fight he hadn't even noticed Patrick jumping into the water. "Hey, didn't you say you were afraid of catching a cold?"

"To the hell with a cold! You made me lose my acorn, you idiot!"

"What? Oh…" Irnik just noticed that he wasn't holding the sphere anymore. "Sorry."

"Sorry? SORRY? You have no idea what you've done!" Patrick bellowed at him.

"Why, what have I done? It was just a stupid acorn!"

"But it was my _only_ acorn! There isn't one single oak tree around here! How am I going to get one again, eh?"

Irnik was at a loss for words. He had never seen this composed boy lose his temper like that before. And because of an acorn. What use did he have for an acorn?

"Er… you could travel to the north… there are huge oak forests in the Pilis, so I heard…"

"The Pilis?" Patrick snapped. "That would take days to reach there and then back here! I don't have that much time!"

"You don't have that much time… for what?"

"You don't understand it! You have no idea!"

"I would know if you told me!" Irnik replied angrily.

"No way am I going to tell you! You've caused enough trouble already!" Patrick spat, wading to the shore.

"Me, causing trouble? It was you who wanted to see your brother training!"

The half-elf's cheeks were ruby red with fury. "Don't you dare blame me for your clumsiness! And leave me alone!"

"As you please!" the Hun boy snapped, gathered his clothes and marched away.

Dripping wet and shaking with rage and nerves, Patrick sank onto the mossy ground. He had lost his only acorn. What if his father got injured too much in that stupid battle and his magic won't be enough to heal him?

_All my fault_, he thought, tears running down his cheeks, mingling with water droplets dripping freely from his reddish locks onto his face. _If I hadn't been so stupid to let Aladár bait me… Dad will never forgive me… and if Dad dies, Mum will never forgive me either… Holy Frond, what have I done?_

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N**: I don't think that the Romans really gave their children birthday gifts… but forgive me for this tiny historical inaccuracy.

**REVIEW, PLEASE!**


	13. A Series of Unfortunate Events I

**A/N: review responses sent out as usual.**

**Also thanks to: **_Rebel Rose, J. Dawnwolf, Mousewolf, hello, AnnieThePipster, CarynG, ebtwisty9, The Flying Moose, Emrisah, septempopuli, refloc, artemisfowl12, WiseAbsol, Unrealistic, The OddBird, SPG, QueenDragon, Soccer101, iccy, hogwartscharmed1, Fleury, Lady Emerald Black, JoJo_

**Disclaimer: **the same as in chapter one, plus I borrowed the title of this chapter and the next one from Lemony Snicket's book series (before you ask: I've only fully read the first book and half of the second and I disliked both books… but at least the series has an interesting title.)

**Chapter 13**

**A Series of Unfortunate Events – Part I**

Depressed and afraid of what could happen now that he no longer had a 'backup' acorn, Patrick walked back towards the camp. He no longer desired to witness his father's first warrior training session. With Irnik at his side, it had seemed a good idea – a real prank – but now it no longer did. Irnik had left, their short-lived friendship had come to an end and his father was in grave danger. All because he had allowed himself the luxury of being a child.

His mother had several times asked him, _beseeched_ him to act his age, to go and have fun with friends, but he had only sat at home or at Ops Booth, programming, tinkering with machines and doing biochemistry projects. He had always been like a little adult who thought he couldn't afford to be a child because he was a genius, and genii were destined to be lonely, withdrawn and aloof. Then he landed in the Hun king's camp, in a different place and a different time, where people didn't know or respect genii and where he first dared be what he was: a twelve-year-old.

And now this twelve-year-old had screwed up. Everything. His life, his father's life and probably his mother's life as well. If Artemis died here thanks to his son's foolish pride, then they might not be able to save his mother from whoever had kidnapped her. His unborn sibling could die as well.

His heart told him that he should travel north immediately to obtain an acorn, but logic told him that he had no time for that. The fight would take place in two days, and he didn't have a means of transport that could take him to the oak forests quick enough. Horses were fine and fairly quick, but he had never ridden a horse on his own and doubted that he could make it to the Pilis and back here in two days. He couldn't use a chute either as there was no chute in the vicinity of the Pilis. Not to mention that fairies at this time weren't using chutes yet – they went underground in special, permanent tunnels dug by dwarves. The 'riding the hotshots' era came only about two hundred years later, according to what Patrick remembered of fairy history.

If only he had managed to complete his transporter before they had to come back in time! If that machine were working, he would be able to transport himself to the oaks and back in a matter of minutes…

_Well, if I started working on it right now, I might be able to finish it_, he mused. _I have brought my micro-screwdriver with me…_

"Hey, Patricius!" Someone called out to him.

He looked up to see Fiona waving at him. She was as pretty as a picture. A bit sad-looking, but very pretty. He had to remind himself that this fairy was actually his great-grandmother and therefore she was supposed to be ancient, wrinkly and knitting socks. _Great-grandpa is a lucky chap_, he thought, giving the elf woman a half-hearted smile.

"What's this expression, Patricius?" she asked benignly. "You look like some who's been chased by a pack of trolls."

"A pack of what?" Patrick as politely. He had to pretend to be a proper Mud Man, and Mud People weren't supposed to know about trolls.

"Oh, sorry," Fiona giggled. "I keep forgetting that people around here don't know things that I know… I came from a different place, far, far away. Trolls are animals like… wolves crossed with bears and huge pigs. And they have tusks like a warthog."

The boy made a disgusted grimace. "Sounds a lovely type of animal to me. But I prefer dolphins, they are so clever. What's your favourite type of animal?"

"You're trying to change the subject," she said sharply. "But I can see through it, young man."

_Great, she's behaving just like a great-granny should_… Patrick sighed inwardly.

"Something's bothering you. Can I help?"

The boy shook his head. _Not unless you can transport me to the Pilis at once._ "No, thank you, but you cannot help."

Suddenly an idea flashed across his mind. What if he asked Fiona to help him heal his father from possible injuries if his magic ran out? Then, just as quickly as it came, he banished the idea. They weren't supposed to let Fiona know that they knew she was a fairy. Even less were they supposed to let her know that they had come from the future and were related to her. That might change everything. That could ruin everything.

"All right then." She shrugged. "But if you change your mind, you may visit me in my tent till sundown. At sundown I'm going to leave for a short while – two days at most – visiting someone."

"I see." The boy nodded. Was great-grandma going to visit great-grandpa underground? Well, that was a first step in the right direction… "Have a nice journey, Fiona."

"Good-bye, Patricius Faulus."

o o o O O O o o o

_Drogheda, 10:30 a.m., 16th July, 2015_

"Finally, the Force has guided us here," Doug sighed happily as he got out of the car. Jerry put the head-dress of his Chewbacca costume on his head and nudged Holly awake.

She opened her eyes to see that they were in a huge park in front of a huge building that could probably be used for conferences. However, there were no limousines around, nor a single diplomat-look-a-like, nor flags on the building's façade. Instead there was an enormous placard hanging above the entrance, depicting Darth Vader and Emperor Palpatine, bearing the legend: '_Welcome to the 27th annual meeting of the Irish Star Wars Fans! May the Force be with you!_'

As far as the eye could reach, there were cars parked – cars that barely resembled cars. Most of them had wings and a few seemed to be sporting a laser canon. Holly wondered how these transports had managed to avoid being caught and fined by the Mud Man Police.

The people who were disembarking the 'spaceships' looked even weirder than their transports. It quickly turned out that Jerry wasn't the only Chewbacca around (Holly counted four in the parking place and assumed that there would be at least another ten inside the building). Apparently every second visitor here carried a toy lightsaber. A short, blond man, who happened to be madly waving with his green lightsaber, wore a T-shirt with the script: '_I'm in love with my sister and my father's a Sith – no wonder I've gone crazy'._

"Cool place, eh, Holly?" Nate grinned at her. "We're going to have loads of fun here."

She faked a smile as a reply. _I'm pregnant, on the run and associating with a bunch of madmen – no wonder if I'm going crazy…_

o o o O O O o o o

_The clearing in the forest near Attila's camp, 14th April, 453_

Artemis thought he'd never felt so exhausted before. Csaba had been making him do ridiculous swishes with an extremely heavy sword for what seemed hours, and every muscle in his arms was aching by now. His situation strongly reminded him of a scene in some movie called Karate Kid. That old Japanese bloke, Miyagi or whatever his name was, had made 'Daniel San' exercise stupid moves like polishing a car or painting the fence. The moves Csaba now made Artemis exercise seemed just as pointless as those in the movie. They were mere swishes and flicks and stabs without a real opponent. What was the point in stabbing the thin air? – the Irishman wondered.

Shortly before sunset, the prince declared that Artemis had had enough of training for today and they should continue tomorrow when he'd act as Artemis's partner in duel.

_I doubt I will be able to lift a sword by tomorrow_, Artemis thought bitterly. _Not with muscles this sore… Perhaps Pat could heal them… But no. I'm not going to ask a favour of him! I'm not going to let him see how weak I am! I'm his bloody father, for heaven's sake! I'm supposed to be the role model! What boy would be proud of a father who complained about muscle fatigue?_

He thanked Prince Csaba for the help and walked back towards the camp, wondering why he was doing this at all. Certainly, his son had set it up for him, but he could easily have said no. He could have found an excuse not to fight. In St. Bartleby's he'd always managed to produce fake medical certificates for P.E. lessons saying that he wasn't supposed to be doing any hard work because of his delicate skeletal structure. Surely he could have made up something to spare himself the trouble of duelling this Keve person…

But he found that he only half-wished to be exempted from the fight. His other half wanted to prove himself. To show his son that he was still _Someone_, even with his genius gone. Something deep in him wanted to make his son proud of him. Even if his brains told him that he was supposed to be mad at Patrick for arranging this duel for him, his heart couldn't stay angry with the boy for a long time.

As he entered the tent, he spotted Mulch snoring on one of the cots and Patrick bent over the same tiny machine he had shown him at the wedding reception. The transporter.

"What are you doing with that?" he asked wearily, dropping himself on his own cot.

"Trying to finish it, Dad," the boy muttered, not even looking up. Then suddenly, as though a bee had stung him, he looked up. "Are you talking to me again?"

"Why wouldn't I be talking to you?" Artemis raised an eyebrow at the boy.

"Well… I just thought… you were too mad at me… and you had every right to be mad, and-"

Artemis held up a hand to stop his son's tirade. "I do have a reason to be mad at you, young man, but I just don't feel like it."

A huge grin spread on Patrick's face. "Gee, thanks, Dad."

Artemis returned his grin with a half-hearted smile, then collapsed completely on the cot.

"Dad?" The boy dropped the micro-screwdriver and dashed to his father. He quickly felt for Artemis's pulse. _Thank Frond, he's just asleep_… As he was holding his father's arm, he felt that the muscles in it were all seized up. _Well, two sparks won't do any harm, would they?_ – he thought, and sent a tiny amount of healing magic into Artemis's arms. The man stirred, but did not awaken.

Relieved and pleased to have been able to help, Patrick sat back down to continue working on the transporter. He would continue working on it all night if needed, so that he could make a jump to the oaks and back tomorrow. If he managed to complete the machine, he could put everything he'd ruined right. If not, then he could only pray that his father wouldn't be injured too much in the duel.

He lit a candle, and worked, and worked.

In the morning, Artemis and Mulch found him dozing over a still incomplete transporter. The candle must have gone out sometime at dawn, but by then Patrick had long fallen asleep.

o o o O O O o o o

_Underground fairy facility, 9 p.m., 14th April, 453_

Alexius Short couldn't believe his luck. When Fiona had asked him to give her his address, he had thought she was only doing it to end their conversation and get rid of him as soon as possible. And now, just a few hours after they had last met, here she was, sitting in his living room, sipping a mug of hot nettle tea with him.

"More sugar?" he asked, offering her a bowl of sugar cubes. The cubes rattled in the bowl as his hands holding it shook.

"No, thanks."

Even though she didn't want more sugar, he added a few more cubes to his own tea – and dropped at least three of them thanks to his nerves. He felt lucky, happy, but very, very nervous. He had never before had young ladies visiting him so late in the evening, let alone a young lady who happened to be his fiancée. "So… so… what made you decide to visit me this… quickly? Er… not that I'm not happy about it… of course I am happy, just… just… surprised, that's all. I didn't expect you to come this soon."

The girl seemed downright amused by his stuttering. "I don't really know what made me decide this quickly…" She shrugged, not meeting his eyes. He didn't need to be good in reading expressions to know that she wasn't telling him the truth.

It had happened so that Attila had invited Fiona to his tent after lunch. Fiona had been delighted to have an opportunity to be alone with the king, even if for just a short while, but as she entered the tent, she spotted Attila's new bride-to-be sitting next to him, snuggling herself into his embrace. As it turned out, it wasn't even Attila who wanted to talk to her but little princess Mikolt. She asked for Fiona's opinion on what kind of flowers she should have her wedding wreath made of.

Upon hearing Mikolt's stupid request, Fiona's coffee-coloured face turned red with anger, but the future bride didn't even notice, all she cared for was her wedding outfit. The fairy's anger, however, didn't elude Attila's attention, and he sent his long time 'girlfriend' a silent apologetic and imploring glance. A glance that carried the message '_She's too young and rash, but you're a considerate woman, Fiona. She thinks she needs your help, so please, help her_.' Well, at least that was what Fiona thought Attila's glance had meant, and when he gave her such glances, she could never resist him. He was the only person who had this effect on her: with a single glance he could melt her insides and make her do even the silliest things.

So Fiona had helped Mikolt in choosing the flower decorations, but after she'd left the royal tent, her heart sunk. She was actually helping her only love get married to another woman!

She decided that she needed to sort things out, needed to put things in her head in order. She needed to flee from Attila's camp for a while. And well, she perhaps needed to see a male who adored her just as much as she adored Attila. That would probably do some good to her ego.

So here she was now, to deliberately let Alexius Short charm her if he could.

o o o O O O o o o

_Attila's camp, 15th April, 453_

Artemis opened his eyes, blinked, and the first thing he saw was the canopy of their tent. He was apparently lying on his back.

Closing his eyes again, he ran the events of the previous day across his mind. He was afraid to move. He surely would have horrible aches in his arms if he did. But he couldn't remain like this forever, could he?

"G'morning, Arty," Mulch's cheerful voice came from his side. "Glad to see you awake at last, I was worried that we might miss breakfast if you deigned to sleep any longer."

"I thought you were satisfied with those worms you found around here," the Irishman replied, carefully moving his right arm. It didn't hurt. How was that possible?

"Oh, you know, worms are nice, but only as a dessert. I wouldn't miss the main course if I could help it… So up you get, old boy!"

_I'll try_, Artemis thought and sat up. Still no aches. He tentatively moved his left arm as well – it felt completely healthy. No muscle fatigue at all. That could mean only one thing…

His glance fell upon Patrick, who was dozing over the transporter. The screwdriver had fallen out of his hand.

Artemis couldn't help but smile – the boy must have healed him.

Mulch padded over to the boy and shook him. "Wake up, Patty! Breakfast time!"

"Huh?" Patrick looked around, confused. "Is it… morning already?"

"Yeah." The dwarf nodded.

"D'Arvit," the boy breathed. He hadn't managed to complete the machine overnight.

"Why? What's your problem with morning?" Mulch enquired. "I particularly like it, as it means we get to have a hearty meal."

It had happened so that Attila had ordered Irnik's mother Gyöngyvér (who was a widow) to make meals for his British guests as long as they were staying in the camp. They usually ate in Gyöngyvér's tent, together with her family. That was how Patrick had first met and befriended Irnik.

"Oh no," Patrick sighed. "I'm not going there. I just can't." How could he face Irnik after all that had happened between them yesterday? _Blimey, I never thought that having friends was this complicated…_

"Why not?" his father asked. He had no idea that his son had fallen out with the Hun boy.

"Just… I'm a bit sick. Too tired to leave the tent. Please just bring something back for me, like a slice of bread or something…"

"You don't appear to be sick," Artemis said, scrutinizing the boy. "Only tired. You've got horrible shadows under your eyes. Have you been up all night, working on that machine?"

The boy nodded.

"Why?"

Patrick shrugged. "I just wanted to finish it, that's all."

Artemis's dark blue eyes narrowed. "Why do I have a feeling that you're not telling me something?"

"Dunno, why?" his son asked, flashing him with a weak, but pretty much innocent smile. "Really, there's nothing I'm not telling you, Dad. I just love tinkering, you know that. Once I start working on something, I can't stop it until it's perfect and complete. Call it a mania or something if you want… I'm just like that, can't help it."

Artemis forced himself not to smile at how much this boy resembled him, both inside an out! He had been just like Patrick: not affording to rest as long as a project he was working on wasn't finished. Well, at least, he _used to_ be like that. In his genius-era.

He looked away, feeling as though the boy's stare was burning him. He couldn't let his son see him wallowing in self-pity, could he?

Deciding not to let any dark thoughts ruin his mood even more (the prospect of having to train through the day with Csaba had ruined it enough already), Artemis turned to Patrick. "I wouldn't call it a mania, Son. It's just natural. I was like that, too. I'm glad you're like that too. I remember Holly telling me how diligently you used to work on the MMM as well… By the way, what's up with the MMM now? I mean, in 2016? Has its serial production began, or…?"

"No." Patrick shook his head. "First we need to run about a hundred tests… not that anyone thinks it could be working wrong… _I_ made it, after all, it can only be perfect… It's just to satisfy the bureaucrats. Then, at first, only the L.E.P. will have the licence to use it. In a few years, however, it will be in the pharmacies, available for every fairy. But before that, I will need to add a new ingredient."

"What kind?" Artemis asked with keen interest. Even though no genius anymore, he was still fascinated by science.

"Something like a tracker substance. A substance that doesn't affect the MMM-user's health a bit, but one that allows the L.E.P. to keep track of them to-"

"…make sure that they don't misuse their Mud Man appearance," Artemis finished the sentence.

"Exactly." The boy nodded. "Should the L.E.P. find out that a fairy misused the substance and say, bullied a Mud Person, we should be able to find them, bring them back to Haven, force-feed them the antidote and ban them from ever using the MMM again. Don't ask me about the details though, I haven't yet fully devised them. And I have a few years to think of it, so now I can devote all my attention to this little beauty here." He pointed at the transporter.

Artemis stood up from the cot. "Are you sure you don't want to come for breakfast?"

"No, Dad. I'm not really hungry. Just bring me something small."

Young Fowl and the dwarf turned to leave, but Artemis doubled back from the tent's 'door'. "Er, Patrick?" He almost berated himself – 'er' wasn't even a word!

"Yes?"

"When you used the half-fairy version of the MMM… did it hurt or made you feel queasy or anything?"

"Well… it wasn't exactly pleasant, but didn't really hurt. Why?"

"Just… thinking of the baby. He will need to take it someday…" Artemis replied with a pained expression. Anyone could see he was worried about his child-to-be-born.

"Don't worry, Dad. She might scream a bit for a couple of minutes, but not out of pain, only out of surprise. Babies are like that… easily shocked, but they forget quick."

"Ah, okay." Artemis nodded insecurely. "You referred to the baby as 'she'…"

Patrick shrugged. "Mum told me she thought it was a girl. And women are usually right about things like that."

"If only nothing's happened to her and the baby…" the Irishman whispered, staring out of the tent, his eyes distant.

"Nothing wrong will happen, Dad. We'll save them." The boy sent his father an encouraging smile that Artemis returned with a half-hearted one.

"My stomach's rumbling!" Mulch complained, tugging at Artemis's sleeve and pulling him out of the tent.

Patrick watched as the hangings that served as the tent's door flapped back into place behind his father and the happily bouncing Mulch, and prayed that Irnik wouldn't mention the 'acorn incident' to them.

o o o O O O o o o

_Police Plaza, ten a.m., 16th July, 2016_

"Anything new to report?" Julius barked at Foaly upon entering Ops Booth.

"Shhhh!" The centaur pressed his index finger to his lips.

"What in the name of Frond…?" The commander walked behind the centaur's chair and glanced at the monitor over Foaly's shoulder. "What's this?"

"Just a broadcast from the annual meeting of the Irish Star Wars fans…" said Foaly casually.

"And you're watching that during working hours?" Root snapped.

"Well, Holly's there, after all…" Foaly shrugged. "Just checking whether everything's going all right… to keep her safe."

"To keep her safe, eh? More to entertain yourself," Root grunted.

"To entertain myself? Banish the thought." Foaly waved with the air of a hurt genius.

"Why, only half a year ago, I caught you watching the meeting of the German Star Wars fans! Don't tell me that too was for security reasons!"

"Okay, Julius, got me," the centaur sighed. "I'm watching it because it gives me perverse delight to see Mud Adults behave like a bunch of five-year-olds and listen to them chanting _May the Force be with you, young padawan_…"

_Young what?_ Root frowned but decided not to comment. "Anything about Fowl? Don't tell me, you would have notified me if there had been any news…"

"Correct, Julius," Foaly said, his eyes fixed on the screen that showed a storm trooper walking hand in hand with Darth Vader. Wonder if either of them was a female…

"What could have happened to that Mud Boy? And to Patrick?" Root sighed. He knew he would be devastated if anything happened to his little 'grandson', and he caught himself being worried about Artemis too. That was something new… "And don't call me Julius!"

o o o O O O o o o

_The clearing near Attila's camp, 15th April, 453_

Artemis was lying on the grass. However, he wasn't lying there to relax or to watch the birds in the nearby trees. He was lying there because he had tripped over the protruding root of a tree and fell. Prince Csaba held a sword at his throat.

"See, Artemis Faulus, this is how not to do it."

"Thanks," the Irishman muttered sarcastically. "Next time tell me in advance if you're backing me towards a root, because, as you might have guessed, your highness, not even I have eyes on the back of my head…"

Csaba shrugged, grinning. "My father once lured me into the same trap. And if that helps, I hit myself just as bad as you did, if not worse. All I can give you as advice is not to let your opponent to back you towards anything. Don't let him corner you, don't let him back you against a wall, don't let him manipulate you at all. Since you aren't an exercised warrior, cunning is all that can help you. If you don't know how to parry, duck out of its way. If you keep ducking while your opponent is swishing madly with his sword, he might get tired out quicker than you do."

_I doubt that_, Artemis thought dejectedly, feeling too tired to even sit up, let alone hop to his feet and lift his sword that weighed at least four times as much as his laptop. He wasn't used to carrying anything heavier than that, and even the laptop was most of the time carried by Butler…

"What's this expression?" Csaba tutted. "You look like someone who's been sentenced to death."

"Why, aren't I?" The Irishman arched an eyebrow at the prince.

"Of course not. This is just a tournament. A fight for joy and to prove yourself, but no one is supposed to die. Keve is big and a bit quick-tempered, but overall good-hearted. He won't try and kill you if you don't give him particular reason to."

"I'm very relieved now…" Artemis said, forcing himself to stand up and grab the sword again.

o o o O O O o o o

"A coordinate stabilisator, I need a coordinate stabilisator," Patrick muttered desperately, bent over the almost complete transporter. "But how am I going to get one? Here, at stone age?"

He was getting more and more frustrated. When he had been working on this project back at Haven, he hadn't thought of the final step, as he had been still too far from it. Now that he was almost ready, he had to face the cruel truth that he hadn't thought of this before. How could he have not thought of building a coordinate stabilisator into the gadget? Without the stabilisator, the transporter could take him anywhere – at random. If he couldn't feed it the coordinates, he could wind up in Alabama or Eritrea instead of at the oak woods of the Pilis!

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_! – he fumed. _There's no way I could get one here, at this time! If I went back to our time, then… Nooooo. I would still have to go back from Hungary to Ireland or to Paris to find a chute to Haven, then back to Hungary and then come back in time… But what if something happened on the way, say my time machine got smashed or stolen or… anything? What if I didn't get back here in time to heal Dad in case he got injured in the fight? D'Arvit, why are things always so complicated?_

Frustration exploding out of him, Patrick chucked the transporter under Mulch's cot and collapsed on the carpet, his whole body trembling with sobs. He had never been the type to cry, he had regarded shedding tears as something beneath his dignity, but now it felt good to cry. Relieving. He knew that as soon as he stopped crying, he'd have to face the results of his own mistakes again, but as long as he sobbed, he felt better. He felt as though invisible straps that had been tightly wound around his heart had now been cut.

_I'm going to save Dad_, he swore. _Even without the transporter and without a new acorn. I still might have enough magic to heal a serious wound, or at least to give it a first push to heal. Nothing's lost… Nothing. Have faith, Patrick!_

o o o O O O o o o

It was near dinnertime when Csaba decided that Artemis had learned enough to keep him safe the following day. Artemis thanked the prince for the lessons and they headed back to the camp. Artemis was supposed to have dinner at Irnik's mother's tent, as usual. At breakfast he had received curious glances from Irnik but ignored them, thinking that the boy was probably sorry for him because he was supposed to fight this Keve person. When he'd mentioned that his young brother wasn't really hungry and that's why he missed breakfast, Irnik had given him a sarcastic grimace but Artemis's mind had too much been on the upcoming training to notice.

Now that he was going to have dinner, he wondered whether his son would turn up at all or he was still too absorbed in working on the transporter to feel hungry.

As he and the prince passed by a tent, Artemis spotted a burly man with thick, black beard yelling and shaking his fists at a woman.

"I come home after a week of hunting, and what do I find here? You and a girl! _Another_ girl! Can't you give me anything else but daughters, woman?"

As Artemis looked at them more carefully, he spotted a tiny bundle in the woman's arms. She seemed to be shaking with nerves and exhaustion – she must have given birth only a few days prior.

"I'm… I'm so sorry…" she muttered.

"Sorry, eh? For giving me a fifth daughter and not a single son?" the man bellowed at the trembling female. "Why am I cursed with a wife who can only give me daughters?"

"Excuse me," Artemis didn't know where and how he had found the courage to cut in, but he did, nevertheless, "but it is the male's Y chromosome that determines the gender of the child."

The burly man turned to him, too surprised to speak for a few seconds. Then finally he asked: "The male's what?"

"The Y chromosome. Women have two X chromosomes, men have one X and one Y. If the male's Y chromosome joins with either of the female's X ones, then the baby will be a boy. However, if the male's X chromosome joins with the female's, then they are going to have a girl. Simple genetics. The child's gender depends on the male."

"So you're telling me that it's _my_ fault that my wife always got pregnant with daughters?" the man grunted.

"Technically, yes." Artemis nodded with the air of a biology professor who had just explained something to one of his dumbest students. He didn't even notice that Prince Csaba was gently nudging him. "So, there is no reason to bully that poor woman…"

The huge man's eyes narrowed in his red-with-anger face. "Who are you, little know-it-all?"

"Artemis Faulus. And you?"

Csaba shook his head dejectedly, while a malicious smirk spread on the bearded man's face. "I'm Keve, little Brit. I trust you have heard of me?"

Artemis gulped and suddenly didn't feel half as confident as he had. "Y…yes."

"Good. Meet you at the fight, tomorrow, then. Oh, and if I were you, I'd start digging my grave."

With that Keve turned on his heels and marched into the nearby tent that was obviously his home. His wife sent the dumbfounded Artemis a grateful glance and hurried into the tent after her husband.

"You shouldn't have done that," Csaba spoke up.

"Done what?"

"You questioned his virility."

"I did not!" Artemis snapped.

"Yes, you did. And in front of many others. You know, people have been joking about it for years that Keve has daughters only. He has been laughed at behind his back for a long, long time… And now here you are, telling him that it was actually _his _fault that he never had a son."

"Not his _fault _exactly, but… it's biology," Artemis sighed. "You wouldn't understand."

"No, I suppose I wouldn't, but you, my friend, are in big trouble."

o o o O O O o o o

Artemis could barely sleep that night. He kept tossing and turning and awakening every half an hour until he felt it was no use trying to go back to sleep at all. He would only have more nightmares about Keve slicing him into little pieces and that was the last thing he wanted.

Patrick on the adjacent cot seemed exhausted and his eyes slightly puffy (had he been crying? – Artemis wondered but decided not to embarrass the boy by asking), but at least he slept soundly. Mulch was undoubtedly the best sleeper, his snores filling the tent.

Artemis expected that if he had told his son about his little incident with Keve, the boy wouldn't be sleeping half as tight as he was now, so he decided not to mention it. No need to worry anyone. Keve might be a quick-tempered person, but it was also possible that a good night's sleep calmed him enough to forgive Artemis for 'questioning his virility'. And perhaps just having a closer look at his new daughter would soften his heart a bit…

_Fat chance_, the Irishman thought bitterly, gazing at the dark canopy of their tent, wondering if he would ever have a chance to see his own daughter. Well, if Holly thought it was a girl, then she must be right… What would the little one be like? – he mused. Would she take after Holly or after him? Would he be scared to hold her for the first time? Yeah, he surely would.

Suddenly he felt an extreme longing to be with his wife and tell her how much he loved her and how anxious he was to see their baby-to-be-born. _Oh, Holly…_

It must have been dawn already, as the birds outside started an ear-splitting concert. Artemis was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep anymore, and it felt much nicer to be daydreaming about Holly than having nightmares about the duel.

o o o O O O o o o

Around six in the morning, the camp began to stir. In the past few days Artemis had observed that most of the Huns got up around seven, but today, apparently, everyone was too excited to stay in bed for long. It was not every day they got to see a good scrap, after all…

o o o O O O o o o

Mulch, naturally wasn't disturbed by the yells of the people around, he slept on till nine. Upon awakening he told Artemis that he looked somewhat sickly.

_Somewhat sickly? It's a wonder I haven't started throwing up my last meal_, Artemis thought. He decided not to have breakfast, because then he would surely start throwing up, and also he knew that soldiers who fought on an empty stomach had a much better chance of surviving serious injuries.

"You just go without me," he encouraged Patrick. "And no need to bring anything back for me, I don't think I could swallow anything."

Mulch didn't need to be told twice, but Patrick didn't want to leave his father alone… as if he were worried that this was their last time to talk to each other.

"Just bring me a slice of bread, will you, Mulch?" the boy told the dwarf who nodded and hurried off to have breakfast.

"You should have gone with him, you know," Artemis said dryly. "You missed all meals yesterday."

"I'm not really hungry," the boy lied, blushing as his stomach gave an almighty rumble.

"Why are you doing this, Patrick?" his father asked gently, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I… just… I should've told you, Dad… I… fell out with Irnik. I don't want to have meals where he does."

"Is that all?"

"Yeah," the child said absent-mindedly.

"All right," his father replied, though he didn't believe a word of it. "Anyway, I'm glad to have you here with me."

"Really?" Patrick looked up from the carpet he had been examining.

Artemis gave him a weak smile. "Yes, really. Whatever you've done, you're my son. Never forget that. And don't you dare blame yourself, no matter what happens, understood?"

The boy gulped, but nodded. "I'll try, Dad. But it's so hard… I don't want to lose you."

"You won't." With that, Artemis reached out and gathered his son into his arms.

"Promise?" the boy mumbled into the man's shirt.

"Yes," Artemis replied, willing his voice to sound much more confident than he was feeling. "Promise."

o o o O O O o o o

_An hour later_

Patrick watched with awe as a Hun warrior hit the shield of his opponent with such force that the shield splintered and fell onto the grass in five little pieces. This Hun warrior was good, frightfully good. And, allegedly, he wasn't even the best. That bloke Keve was said to be the best…

Patrick gulped. His father didn't stand a chance against people like this… And even if he survived – either because he didn't get badly injured or because Patrick managed to heal his wounds – the defeat would be another terrible blow to his already damaged ego.

The boy was well aware of the changes in Artemis's character and knew that they all had psychological roots. They had all been caused by his losing his genius. His father had very likely agreed to take part in this madness to prove himself to his son, and Patrick feared that a shameful defeat would only crush his father's weakened pride even more.

The warrior who had lost his shield fought on valiantly, but without the shield to protect him, his opponent soon managed to injure him on the chest and he gave up the fight, congratulating the other duellist on his victory.

"Nervous, huh?" a voice spoke up next to Patrick. He turned to his right to see that Csenge had somehow pushed her way to him across the crowd. She was particularly pretty today with yellow ribbons woven into her shiny black hair.

"Er… just a bit," the boy replied.

"I'd rather say _a lot_," the girl said with a sad smile. "And that's understandable. I heard that your brother doesn't know how to fight…"

Patrick didn't reply just hung his head.

"Can I help you somehow?" she asked, slipping her hand into his.

"I wish you could," he whispered. "But no one can. And if he dies, it will be my fault."

"But he won't die." She squeezed his hand. "This is just duelling for fun. To show off. Not to kill. See, even Szemere, the warrior whose shield got destroyed, is fine. His wound should heal within a few days. Your brother can't get much more injured than him… I hope."

"You're sweet for trying to calm me, but you're wasting your time," Patrick said, pulling his hand out of her grip.

"Hey, Faulus, are you afraid that your big brother will fail miserably?" a mocking voice spoke up from his left. He didn't even need to look in that direction to know that the speaker had been Prince Aladár.

"Yeah, I'm sure he's afraid," another voice – that of Irnik – added. "You're shaking with nerves, Brit boy! And with a good reason! Keve will beat your brother to pulp!"

"Oh, shut it, Irnik!" Csenge yelled at her brother.

"Wow, Faulus, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" Aladár laughed as he and Irnik elbowed their way across the crowd to Patrick.

"Girlfriend?" Irnik hissed. "Don't even think of it, Patricius! Leave my sister alone, you hear me?"

Patrick forced himself to stay calm and turned to his one-time friend. "One: I'm not shaking with nerves. Two: Csenge isn't my girlfriend. Three…"

He couldn't finish his sentence as Prince Csaba announced the next duelling partners: Keve and Artemis Faulus.

Patrick forced a smile on his face as his father walked into the fighting area. He looked paler than ever, clutching his shield like his life depended on it – and well, perhaps it did indeed depend on it.

Artemis caught a glimpse of his son standing nearby with a brave smile on his face, and he returned the brave smile. It took him great effort to do so, but he couldn't let his son down. He needed to look courageous and self-confident, even if he would rather have dropped his sword and run as far from the camp and the fighting area as possible.

However, as soon as he spotted his opponent's visage, the brave smile faded from Artemis's face as though it had never been there. Keve wore a maniacal grimace and wriggled his eyebrows in a full-of-anticipation way. Not to mention that he cracked his knuckles and Artemis hated it when people did that.

"Have you dug your grave, Artemis Faulus?" Keve asked him causally.

"And you yours?" the Irishman riposted. He would keep his levity, he swore, even if that was the last thing he ever did.

"A bit big mouth you have there, little Brit." The Hun sneered. "Your big mouth got you into trouble yesterday. Wonder if it can win this battle for you today."

"We shall see," Artemis replied and saw it from the corner of his eye that Csaba motioned them to begin their duel.

Keve's first blow hit Artemis's shield with such force that it sent him reeling back a good five metres and falling.

_See, Artemis Faulus, that is how not to do it_, Csaba's words echoed in his mind amidst the hearty laughter coming from quite a few Huns around.

With great difficulty, he got to his feet again, but barely had he straightened up, Keve's sword again came down at him. If he hadn't ducked, his head would be split apart now, his once so famous brains exposed to everyone to see. Charming thought.

o o o O O O o o o

As his father tripped and fell, Patrick gasped and all the blood ran out of his face. Irnik and Aladár next to him laughed the loudest and he felt a sudden urge to strangle both of them with his bare hands. But before he could have considered the possibility, his father had got to his feet, barely getting out of the way of Keve's deadly blade.

"He isn't playing fair," Csenge next to him whispered.

"Who? Da… my brother?"

"No, Keve! He isn't supposed to strike for his opponent's head! If he continues like this, he could actually kill your brother. Wonder why he'd want to kill him?"

"Suppose you haven't heard of yesterday's little incident," Prince Aladár chimed in, delightedly watching as Keve again aimed a blow at Artemis's head.

"_What?" _– Patrick would have asked, had he not been rendered speechless by the mere sight of his father dodging another deadly swish of Keve's sword.

"It happened so that your moronic brother insulted the big man," Irnik informed the boy.

The gigantic Hun warrior seemed to get really mad at the lithe Irishman who should long have died instead of constantly ducking out of the way. And a really riled Keve was definitely not someone to cross. His face was red with fury, his enormous, yellow teeth gnashing as he advanced on his 'prey'.

Patrick, even though he'd heard Irnik's comment about some insult, couldn't find his voice to ask what kind of insult he was talking about. He felt as though he'd forgotten how to speak, how to blink and even how to breathe. As Keve brought his sword down at Artemis with an almighty and animalistic roar, knocking the shield out of the Irishman's hands, Patrick felt as though he had suddenly forgotten how to stand either and his knees buckled.

Had Csenge not been there to catch him, he would have collapsed and probably even passed out.

He didn't hear Aladár and Irnik's malicious laughter anymore – all he could do was watch as the Hun warrior slashed towards the now exposed chest of his father. There were screams – he couldn't tell whose screams, though. His father's? Keve's? His own? That of the onlookers?

Everything seemed to be a blur.

Keve roared again, pressing his big, hairy hands on his abdomen. Something red was running from between his fingers – blood, no doubt. _Did Dad injure him?_ – Patrick thought in a half-daze.

o o o O O O o o o

Artemis couldn't believe what he was seeing: the big man clutching his abdomen, nursing a wound caused by… by _him_? He had managed to give the greatest Hun warrior a wound?

Yes, perhaps he did. He had stabbed upwards with his sword at the same time Keve had slashed at him… But why was his vision getting so blurry? At first he had seen the blood seeping through Keve's fingers quite well, now all he saw was the silhouette of a bulky man, but the man's features were no longer distinct, details like his hand pressed over his injury were lost. And then… not even that. Just darkness.

o o o O O O o o o

"DAD!" Patrick had somehow found his voice and recovered his ability to stand.

"_Dad_?" Irnik gave the 'British' boy an incredulous glance.

"I never got around to say _three_," Patrick snapped and punched Irnik across the face so that the Hun boy stumbled backwards, into the arms of several onlookers standing behind him. "That for my acorn!" With that he was off, running to the unconscious form of his father.

o o o O O O o o o

Artemis no longer saw anything, he only heard voices. One voice had shouted 'Dad!'. _Patrick_, his mind whispered, close to shutting down completely.

Someone pulled the sword out of his hand and began fumbling with his tunic.

"Dad," a voice said, now much closer than before, but it still sounded quieter to Artemis – was he losing his hearing as well? "Dad, be all right, please!"

_I'm fine, Son. No pain_, he wanted to say, but his lips didn't obey him. None of his body parts obeyed him. Suddenly even his ears failed him: he no longer heard the murmur of the crowd.

A droplet of something fell on his cheek. It was a hot droplet, followed by another. _Tears_, his weakening mind told him. _Patrick's?_ He couldn't tell. _Patrick… will he be able to save Holly… on his own?_ – was the last thing that occurred to Artemis before his mind decided to give up the fight.

o o o O O O o o o

"Is he dead?" Keve asked, limping over to his 'victim'.

"Not yet," Prince Csaba replied. "But he might die any minute."

"Then he won't be needing this any longer, eh?" The big Hun, not caring about the boy bent over his dying brother – father, bent down and pulled a nice armlet off Artemis's left wrist. "Booty," he declared. "For the insults I had to suffer."

_He's taking father's time machine_, Patrick's mind screamed but he couldn't move. And even if he did, what could he have achieved? He couldn't fight the big man for the 'watch', could he? And perhaps his father wouldn't even need it anymore…

What kind of thoughts are those? Heavens, Patrick! You can save him! 

He looked at Csaba. "Take him to our tent. Please. Ask someone to take him there. He will heal there."

"What makes you think so?" The prince frowned. "Our shamans could perhaps…"

"No," Patrick said quietly but very deliberately. "Do as I asked, your highness. Please."

Csaba stood up and beckoned to two Huns. "Take him to his tent. Do whatever the boy asks." He turned back to Patrick. "I'll go and talk to Keve. He can't keep that trinket, it belongs to you if your father dies." He turned to leave but suddenly doubled back, his eyes wide with surprise. "Your _father_?"

"Let me explain it later," the boy said softly and followed the two Huns carrying the limp form of Artemis towards the tent on the edge of camp; praying that his father would still be alive by the time they got there. He still had some magic to perform a partial healing, but by far not enough to resurrect.

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N**: this is where the chain-reaction really begins. Soon you'll hate me, I promise that.

**REVIEW, PLEASE!**


	14. A Series of Unfortunate Events II

**A/N: this chapter again may contain some historical inaccuracies: I'm really not sure whether there were any nunneries in the fifth century. If there were not, then let's just say that Patrick is improvising without regard to historical eras.**

**Review responses sent out, as usual.**

**Also thanks to: _SPG, Longsworder, Mousewolf, J. Dawnwolf, iccy, artemisfowl12, Emrisah, The Flying Moose, Fleury, an-angel-in-hell, aly, Lii, frenchpiment, Chris-Crossed, ebtwisty9, Lady Emerald Black, Soccer101, Cruel Angel's Love, Chibi Binasu-chan, CarnyG, Queen Dragon, The OddBird, TheWatcherandReader_**

**OH, AND ONE MORE THING: THANKS TO THOSE WHO NOMINATED 'AZTEC INCIDENT' AND THIS FIC ON ORION AWARDS! I WAS PRACTICALLY BLOWN AWAY WHEN I FOUND OUT HOW MANY CATEGORIES MY FICS WERE NOMINATED IN! (Btw, TheWhiteLily, I'm so glad you like Patrick enough for nominating this fic in the 'best original character' category:)**

**Chapter 14**

**A Series of Unfortunate Events – Part II**

Krimhilda was seething with rage. "I've planned everything so fine, so wonderfully, and what does this imbecile do? Goes and gets himself killed!"

"Are you referring to Artemis Faulus, milady?" Detre asked in a small voice, trying not to upset the queen even more.

"Who else would I be referring to?" the woman snapped. "How on earth are we going to follow through with my plan if Faulus is dead? We can't frame a dead man! And surely his little brother… or son, or whatever, is too young to be Csaba's murderer, thus unsuitable to be framed!"

"Well, they have that shifty-looking jester…" Detre said contemplatively.

"That jester couldn't even pass as a Roman spy." Krimhilda waved irritably. "The only suitable person would have been Artemis Faulus, but he's dying or already dead, and even if some miracle healed him, there's no way he could be up and about by tomorrow evening!"

"Why do you insist on attacking Csaba tomorrow, milady?"

"Why, why, you dimwit… Tomorrow evening's the only night when I can get a hold of the Sword of God! I won't have another chance! Csaba has to die tomorrow… or never!" Krimhilda sank into a chair and hid her face in her palms. "I could explode with rage, Detre," she hissed. "The Fates have conspired against me… I just wanted to help my son inherit the throne, and then it turns out that it was _him_, my son who brought about Faulus's death!"

"Your son, milady? I fear I don't understand," the man said.

"It was Aladár who insisted that Artemis Faulus take part in the duels," she replied bitterly. "I love my son, I'd do anything for him, but for the time being I feel like strangling him!"

"And what shall we do now, my queen?"

"No idea," Krimhilda said in a resigned voice. "Wait, I suppose. Wait for news on Faulus. And pray that he stays alive and heals enough by tomorrow evening to be in a good enough shape to kill someone. An unconscious man can't be suspected of committing murder, but if he's feeling well enough to walk, no matter how shakily, he _can_ be framed. Go, Detre, go to the Fauluses' tent and hurry back as soon as you have news."

"As you wish, milady," said the German servant and backed out of the queen's tent.

o o o O O O o o o

"Just put him down and leave," Patrick ordered the two Huns carrying his father's body. The Huns gave him curious looks, but since Prince Csaba had instructed them to obey the 'British' boy, they did so and left.

Patrick immediately set to work – first removed Artemis's tunic and examined the wound. It wasn't too long but definitely deep enough, on the lower right hand side of his chest, just a little below his nipple. Luckily Keve's sword hadn't injured any vital organs, but Artemis's bleeding was still severe.

"Don't you dare die on me," the boy whispered and touched his fingers to the two tips of the gash. He had never healed any injuries more serious than a finger cut by a bread knife or sore muscles, but he had seen his mother do greater healings on a few occasions. It couldn't be that difficult, could it? "_Heal_," he said deliberately, and was almost thrown back by the intensity of the power surge shooting of out his fingertips. "Woah," he muttered as a flurry of blue sparks dived into his father's chest like a comet.

For seconds nothing happened… then Artemis's body stirred. Patrick knew what it meant: the thrashing part was about to come. To make sure that his father wouldn't hurt himself in the process, the boy climbed upon Artemis and with his weight he pinned his father's legs down and with his hands he tried to keep Artemis's flailing arms in place.

Patrick was fighting a losing battle. The thrashing was the most serious one he had ever seen, and with the last vestiges of his magic gone, he felt too weak to pin down a body so much bigger than his own.

"Need a hand?" Mulch appeared next to him, and not even waiting for the boy's reply, he sat on Artemis's upper chest.

"I… needed… a hand… not… a butt…" Patrick replied shakily as his father kept writhing beneath them. Then, as quickly as it had come, the tremors ceased and the Irishman's body lay still on the cot.

"But apparently my butt was heavy enough to pin him down," the dwarf reposted with a toothy grin.

o o o O O O o o o

The first thing Artemis saw was a highly familiar, hairy butt, framed by an open bum-flap, sitting on his chest. Butler would be scared to death to wake to the same scenery…

"M…mulch?" he mumbled, surprised that he could speak again.

"Ah, awake, Arty?" The dwarf got off him, grinning madly.

"Suppose so. Am I… awake… or dead? I think not… There's no way I'd be… meeting _you_ in heaven…"

"How'd you know you're not in hell?" Mulch smirked. "Heh, barely awake and sarcastic already. Glad to have you back, old chum!"

Artemis shifted his glance from the dwarf to his son, who was still sitting on his legs, panting heavily, with a look of unearthly joy on his face.

"Welcome back, Dad," he muttered, slowly climbing off his father's legs and sitting down next to him on the cot. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been… run over… by a stream-roller," Artemis said shakily. "But I'll survive, I think. Did I… did I really… give the big oaf a wound?"

"That you did, Dad!" Patrick said brightly, though his enthusiasm was dampened by his weariness. He could barely keep himself upright. "You were absolutely great!"

A weak but proud smile spread on Artemis's face and he tried to sit up, only to slump back onto the cot. "Can't… too weak…"

"Just remain lying, don't strain yourself," his son said. "Rest and you'll heal fully."

"Why haven't I healed fully?"

Patrick bit into his lower lip. He didn't want to tell his father that he'd lost his only acorn and that his magic had completely dried up. "I think… I'm just not too used to performing such serious healings. Mum could've done it perfectly, but this is all _I_ could do for you. Sorry…"

Artemis reached out and gently squeezed his hand. "Don't be. It's amazing… that you could do this much… thank you, Son."

"You're welcome, Dad."

o o o O O O o o o

Half and hour later Princes Csaba and Aladár put in an appearance, followed by the whole of Irnik's family and a healer shaman. Aladár and Irnik looked miffed that they had had to come, but Csaba, Irnik's mother and little Csenge all seemed anxious to find out about the young man's condition.

Csaba ordered the rest of the visitors to stay outside and entered with the shaman.

Patrick was slightly annoyed that the prince had brought a 'magician' despite his saying that no shaman was needed, but deep down he felt grateful to Csaba for his caring. _Such a kind-hearted person_, Patrick thought. _A shame he would never get to inherit Attila's throne. He would have made a wonderful king._

The shaman examined Artemis who had fallen asleep after his tiring healing. The Hun 'magician' declared that something short of a miracle must have happened as the wound on Artemis's chest was considerably smaller than half an hour earlier and overall the patient seemed to be in a much better condition.

Csaba sent out the shaman and gave Patrick a questioning glance.

The boy shrugged. "My father is a strong man. He looks weak sometimes, but he's stronger than anyone would think…"

"I see," the prince said dubiously. "Your father really must be a strong man to survive that blow and start healing so quick… Er… really… why did you introduce yourselves as brothers?"

Patrick shifted uncomfortably. He had known this question was coming… so he just had to improvise. "Well… in my home young men usually get married around twenty, some even later, and it's a great shame to have a child out of wedlock, especially at a young age… My father was fourteen when I was born. His parents decided to bring me up as their son not their grandson… So, to the rest of the world, Artemis and I are brothers. I'm sorry about deceiving you, but it was necessary… If fair Honoria of Thracia… you know, Artemis's fiancée, found out that he had an illegitimate son… well, she might not want to marry him."

"Understandable." Csaba nodded. "But… there's one thing I don't understand."

"What, your highness?"

"My father told me that your bro… _father_ had had an ecclesiastical upbringing. How come he managed to father a child among… monks?"

"Weeell…" Suddenly his ability at story-telling failed Patrick.

"There weren't only monks," Mulch cut in. "There were a few nuns as well…"

"Oh, yeah." Patrick sent the dwarf a grateful grin. "So there was a young novice who didn't really want to become a nun and… father didn't really want to become a monk, and… things just happened between them."

"Ah, all right," the prince commented, looking slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry to say that I talked to Keve about the trinket he took from your father and he doesn't want to give it back. I could ask father to force him to give it back…"

"No problem," Patrick said, sending Mulch a meaningful look. "Don't worry about that, your highness. Your father will have enough to do in the near future, even without bothering with this Keve person."

"Yes, that's true." Csaba smiled. "I've got to go now. Last minute wedding arrangements… And before I forget, you're invited to the wedding feast. If your father heals enough, he may join too."

"Thank you, your highness."

Shortly after the prince left, Mulch slid out of the tent as well. Patrick had a very good idea where the dwarf was going: to steal a certain time machine back.

Prince Aladár left with his brother, but Irnik's mother and sister entered the tent with concerned expressions. After a few minutes even Irnik appeared in the 'doorframe'.

"Hey, Patricius…" he said.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. About the acorn. And your… father's injury too." He indeed looked sorry, and the black-eye he had received from Patrick only enhanced it.

"It's okay." Patrick shrugged.

"Friends?" Irnik asked.

A small smile appeared on the half-elf's face. "Friends."

"Great." Irnik grinned.

"If you don't want to leave your father alone, dear, then I'll send Csenge over with the lunch," Irnik's mother offered.

"Thank you, madam Gyöngyvér, that would be nice," Patrick replied and his glance met Csenge's as the little family left. The girl was smiling at him. He couldn't help but smile back.

o o o O O O o o o

"Survived!" Krimhilda clasped her hands joyously. "Perfect! According to the shaman who examined him, he might be able to get up by tomorrow evening. And if so, then his little injury will only help my plan."

"How exactly, my queen?" Detre wondered.

"The shaman said that he had healed an incredible amount in half an hour. So what if he hadn't even been injured that much? What if he had only pretended to be very sick?"

The German man frowned. "I don't get it, madam. No one could pretend a wound as big as his had been…"

The woman crossed her arms and leaned back into her cushioned chair, a triumphant grin on her face. "I like you dear Detre, I really do, but you can be so daft sometimes… There are ways to wound someone to make his injury look more serious than it really is. Let's assume that Keve wounded Faulus exactly that way, enabling Faulus to pretend to be very sick while he's up and about by tomorrow evening. Everyone thinks he's lying in his tent, trying to recuperate, but he's already strong enough to walk and… kill."

Detre's eyes narrowed. "You intend to feed the Huns a story that Faulus deliberately got injured so that he could remain in his tent for tomorrow evening and commit the murder without being suspected?"

"It was time you caught on, my friend," Krimhilda said dryly. "Such behaviour can be expected from a devious Roman spy, and if everything goes well, soon everyone will know that Faulus is a Roman spy. Well, not _know_ it… but _believe_ it. Because _we_ will tell them so. And we will have proof: the letter that I have written already and that we shall hide in Faulus's tent overnight."

"But… milady… This sounds wonderful, but…"

"What buts?"

"Well… am I right assuming that this would mean framing Keve as well? After all, he must have been in league with Faulus or he couldn't have wounded him in a way to show his wound more serious than it really was…"

"You're getting cleverer by the second, old friend," Krimhilda cooed. "Yes, we are going to frame Keve as well. I've never liked him anyway, and he has to be sacrificed for the greater good."

"But he's a Hun, my queen! No one would believe that he wanted to contribute to Prince Csaba's murder!"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Detre. You don't trust my brains." The woman shook her head with a disapproving look. "I am offended by your serious lack of confidence."

The man gave his queen a politely confused look.

"Well, listen here… Keve isn't full Hun. One of his grandmothers was a Roman. You didn't know that, did you?" Krimhilda began playfully twirling a blonde lock around her ring finger. "He's part Roman, so he can be in league with a Roman spy, can't he?"

A malicious smirk spread on Detre's face. "Of course he can, milady. Forgive me for my lack of confidence. Your plan is brilliant."

"I know, dear Detre…" Krimhilda giggled. "I know."

o o o O O O o o o

For about an hour, Patrick sat by his father, watching as Artemis's chest rose and fell rhythmically. He felt more relieved than ever before. Now all they needed to do was wait for the king's death – that should happen the following evening – and find out where he was buried. Piece of cake…

He was shaken out of his reverie by Csenge who arrived with the lunch. She seemed worried for some reason.

"What happened?" the boy asked.

"Attila's favourite horse dropped dead. Everyone's talking about it in the camp," she said, placing the bowl full of hot soup in Patrick's lap.

"When did it happen?"

"Shortly after mother, Irnik and I left your tent."

"And is there any reason for the horse's death?"

"No, none at all. It had been such a beautiful, strong and healthy stallion! The shamans reckon it's a bad sign, a warning from the Lord of Wars! Something horrible is about to happen!"

The boy hid a grin and decided not to tell the girl that such things were stupid superstition.

Csenge pulled a few slices of bread out of the pocket of her pinafore and handed them to Patrick. "I've got to go. I'll come back for the bowl later. Or perhaps mum will."

"Okay, thanks. Tell her that it was very delicious."

"I will." The girl presented him with a small smile. "Oh, and Patricius…"

"Yes?" The boy looked up from his soup.

"I'll be waiting for you tomorrow evening, you know where."

"Ah, the stargazing. Of course…" Patrick flushed. "I'll be there."

"When the stars are visible," she reminded him, and with a last smile, slid out of the tent.

A few seconds later Mulch arrived. "Nice little chick," he said. "Always wears that funny smile when she's around you…"

"Oh, leave me alone, Mulch." Patrick rolled his eyes.

"Leave you alone? Then perhaps you don't even want this back…?" The dwarf pulled a watch out of his pocket, swinging it before the boy's eyes.

"Of course I do!" Patrick caught the time machine and pocketed it.

"I see you're a little touchy about that Hun girl…" Diggums drawled. "But you needn't be. You two look great together. Imagine what nice romance novels you could write once we get back to Haven… The titles would be '_The Half-Elf and the Hun Maiden'_… and '_Artemis and the Nuns'_. You could even write it under a pseudonym like MMMRulez or GeniusShortie…"

Deciding not to comment, Patrick chucked two slices of bread at the dwarf. Maybe that would shut his big mouth for a while…

o o o O O O o o o

_Underground fairy facility_

Fiona was treated like a princess by Alexius Short. And she enjoyed being 'Princess Fiona'.

Alex was extremely polite with her, fulfilled all her wishes and wooed her like a totally enamoured man. Perhaps because he was.

For the first time since her father's death, Fiona felt cherished, honoured and almost contented. Just almost, as there was still a tiny thorn in her heart that Attila's upcoming wedding had planted there. The wedding, and the thought that he'd never see her as a woman, only as a friend. A very good friend, but a friend nevertheless.

During these two days spent in her fiancé's home, Fiona caught herself more than once thinking that being the beloved wife of Alexius Short was probably much better than being Attila's 'good friend'. Alex would give her all the love she could never get from the Hun king, and perhaps some day she would learn to reciprocate it. And until then she might give birth to a few little elves that would surely take her mind off Attila.

By the morning of 16th April – Attila's wedding day – she had made up her mind. She would accept Alex's offer to marry him. Now all she needed to do was tell him the good news.

o o o O O O o o o

_Attila's camp_

Artemis woke to the feeling that he must have slept at least fifteen-sixteen hours. What woke him up was an excited – or rather terrified – murmur coming from the camp.

"What's up?" he muttered, blinking. The heavy material covering the tent's 'door' slid open and Patrick entered.

"What's the commotion?" Artemis asked.

"A comet."

"Huh?"

"A comet has just appeared in the sky. Well, one or two hours ago, actually. And now everyone's scared to death, saying that it's another bad omen, just like Attila's horse dying."

"People of the middle ages were… _are_ very superstitious," Artemis replied. "Come, help me up, I need to visit the loo."

"There's no loo here, Dad." Patrick grinned, helping his father sit up.

"I was referring to that pretty bramble bush left to the tent," Artemis said, gathering all his strength to stand on his feet. Patrick propped him as much as he could and found that his father, even though fairly tall, didn't weigh much. Together, they limped out of the tent so that Artemis could answer nature's call.

Once he was finished, he stopped for a few minutes before their tent, leaning on Patrick, to watch the comet. It was well visible, even though the sky was no longer black but rosy and orange as sunrise was near. The comet was probably just Hailey that returns every 76 years, but the Huns couldn't have known that and expected something horrible to happen.

They walked back into the tent, and with a groan, Artemis lay down again, breathing heavily. Even such little exertion had tired him completely.

Mulch, on the adjacent cot, never even woke up and kept snoring contentedly.

"Are you all right?" his son asked worriedly.

"Fine, just exhausted. I don't dare imagine how long it will take me to be all right again… Couldn't you… couldn't you just give me another shot of your healing magic?"

Patrick heaved a sigh. "I can't. I… don't have any left."

"What?" Artemis gasped. "You used all of it on me?"

The boy nodded. "And not even that was enough."

"Then you could go and bury the acorn we brought along…"

"Can't do that either… lost it."

"Lost it?"

"It fell into the creek when Irnik and I were there… ehm… playing."

"Oh… then I will have to heal the natural way…"

"S'pose so. I'm sorry about that, Dad. I should have been more careful, I shouldn't have gone and… _played_ at all."

"Don't talk like that, Patrick," his father said gently. "I'm actually glad that you screwed up your courage to be a child. I never dared do that. Had I done it, well… lots of things could have happened differently."

"Like you might not even have met mum," the boy said.

"Yes, for example. And that is the only reason why I'm glad I didn't afford myself to be a child. I would have missed Holly… and you."

"But you might have had friends of your age and you might have met a nice girl anyway," Patrick replied. "So probably you would have been happier that way. If you had never met Mum."

For a few seconds silence hung in the air, then Artemis spoke up. "Yes, it is possible I would have been happier that way: with loads of friends, probably three or four children by now… but I don't like to dwell on 'what ifs'. I made my choices and gave up the chance to have friends of my age and a normal family. Some of my choices were bad, but some couldn't have been better… because I have Holly's love… and you, Son. I wouldn't trade you two for anything in the world."

"Not… not even for your genius?" Patrick whispered.

"Not even that," came the heavy reply. "But my point is that you need to make your own decisions, and if you decided to give your childhood a chance, then you very likely chose well. Even if that lost you an acorn. Acorns are replaceable… your childhood isn't. Bear that in mind, Son… and now go to sleep. I have a feeling that tomorrow… well, _today_ is going to be a busy day."

"Yeah, busy," Patrick yawned. "We're both invited to Attila's wedding feast."

"I doubt I could go." Artemis shook his head. "But you could bring me a big slice of treacle tart if they have anything of the sort."

Patrick chuckled. "I doubt they have treacle tarts, but I'll see what I can find. Good night, Dad."

"G'night, Son."

o o o O O O o o o

"I have good news for you, my queen."

"And what is that, Detre?"

"Artemis Faulus has been seen walking out of his tent, probably to… ehm… pee. He was propped by his son and only made a short walk, but he _was _walking. I trust he cannot come as far as the wedding tent by tonight, he's still too weak for that. But surely he can go as far as the nearby meadow…" Detre wriggled his eyebrows nastily.

"Excellent." Krimhilda beamed. "And when was Faulus seen walking?"

"Early in the morning, my queen. He hasn't left his tent ever since. Too weak."

"What about the letter?"

"It's already hidden in their tent – one of our men did it in the middle of the night when everyone in there was fast asleep."

"And your next task, Detre? Repeat it."

"Lure Csaba out of the wedding tent after dark, saying that Artemis Faulus is waiting for him on the meadow and would like to discuss something important with him, but is feeling too weak to go any further from his tent."

"Right." Krimhilda nodded.

"And will Artemis Faulus indeed wait for the prince on the meadow?"

"Of course not!" the woman snapped. "He will be lying in his tent, resting. Once the prince is killed, one your men will discover his dead body on the meadow and will run to Faulus's tent to ask whether he'd seen anything. He will insist that Faulus go with him to look around, only for a few minutes, though. So, Faulus's tent will be abandoned for a few minutes, giving the assassin a chance to slip in and hide the sword… stained with Csaba's blood, preferably."

"And when should I lure the prince out of the wedding feast? Shortly after sunset or wait till everything's completely dark?"

"The latter. We can't risk Csaba noticing the assassin and trying to fight back… The assassin will be hiding in a bush on the meadow's edge. He'll hide there after sunset when the younger Faulus and their dwarf are at the feast already. We can't risk anyone spotting him, but we have to make sure that he's at his place by the time Csaba gets there. Attila will give me the sword before the feast so that he can go to bed with little Mikolt whenever he feels like, without having to go looking for me."

"I see, milady. Everything's set, then."

"Yes, my faithful Detre, everything's set. By this time tomorrow, Aladár will be the heir to the throne!"

o o o O O O o o o

_Underground fairy facility_

"Are you serious?" Alexius Short's eyes widened.

Fiona nodded.

"I… I just can't… can't find words! Oh, Fiona…"

Before she could have protested, he caught her and twirled her around. For a second she felt as though his joy had been infectious and some unknown mirth filled her heart as he laughed and danced across the living room with her. Could it be love? – she wondered. She couldn't tell. Since she'd fallen in love with Attila, she hadn't allowed herself to have feelings for anyone else alive. And now here was Alexius Short, this hot-headed, slightly childish and completely enamoured elf, making her feel something she hadn't yet felt for anyone.

She remembered an old neighbour from her childhood – this woman had been a sprite and was said to have had numerous relationships. Fiona had been an unsuspecting child who didn't know anything about love and hadn't been given the 'little fairies talk' yet when she got the idea of asking her old neighbour a funny question: 'How could you love so many men, Mrs Verbil?'

The old sprite had smiled at the child Fiona and given her a simple answer that even a six-year-old could understand: "There are many ways of love, dear. I loved one male in one way, and another in another way."

Could it be possible that Fiona had grown to love Alex… just in another way? This was certainly different from what she felt for the Hun king… Her love for Attila had been a wild, blazing, rebellious love. What she felt for Alex was quiet, peaceful yet heart-warming.

"Yes, Alex," she replied when he finally deigned to put her down. "I will marry you. Just give me a bit of time to go aboveground and gather my belongings. I will rejoin you as soon as possible."

"Promise?" he asked with a stare that suggested he was afraid of letting her go in case she changed her mind and never returned.

"I give you my word, Alexius Short," Fiona replied solemnly. _I have nothing left aboveground, anyway_, she added in thought.

"You have no idea how happy you made me…" he whispered and she wondered if she'd really seen tears of joy glinting in his eyes.

"I think I do have an idea…" she whispered back, inching towards him until their lips met in a soft, innocent first kiss.

o o o O O O o o o

_The wedding feast, Attila's camp_

Patrick was enjoying himself tremendously, even though neither Irnik nor anyone of Irnik's family was present. Apparently Attila hadn't considered the small Hun family 'prominent' enough to invite them to the feast. The tent where it was held, housed about five hundred people, and it was understandable that Attila couldn't have invited all the several thousand Huns even if he'd wanted to.

The wedding itself had been quite a short ceremony that consisted of nothing but the bride and groom holding hands and reciting a few lines.

_Mum and Dad would have been much happier with such a short ceremony_, Patrick thought. _Father Brian was nice, but a wonder that the guests didn't fall asleep during all that talk…_

Patrick had a seat near the tent's entrance and since the material that served as the door was now pulled back to let the cool night air in, the boy kept glancing out to see when it was dark enough for the stars to be visible. Time seemed to drag by, even though he liked the food and the antics of Attila's dwarf Cerkó. Mulch, who sat on the floor behind Patrick's chair, voiced his opinion that it was a shame that a 'human dwarf' was forced to do cartwheels to entertain people. Patrick had to agree, but he still found Cerkó's show amazing.

Only about two hours after the feast had started, Attila announced that he and his new bride would withdraw to their tent. Patrick couldn't help but notice the disgusted expressions on Krimhilda and Aladár's faces.

Mikolt, the king's new wife (dressed in a pale yellow dress and lots of myrtles) clung to her husband nervously as he led her out of the tent.

_Perhaps it's time for me to leave too_, Patrick thought, and shortly after the royal couple had left, he excused himself from his table mates (I've got to go and see how my father's doing') and left. Mulch stayed behind as there were still a few courses to be eaten.

Patrick's heart was hammering in his throat and a pleasant, fluttery feeling filled his stomach as he hurried towards the meadow. Was Csenge already waiting for him? Perhaps not – it was dark already, but the stars weren't visible enough yet. Well, it couldn't hurt to get there early, could it?

He arrived at the edge of the meadow and saw no sign of the girl. He had half a mind to visit his father and ask how he was doing, then he remembered that he'd forgotten to bring him a tart… Well, perhaps after the 'date' he could go back for some sweets…

o o o O O O o o o

The assassin stood hidden by the bush, waiting. He expected that he'd have to wait for quite a while as it wasn't dark enough yet. He was clutching the Sword of God that queen Krimhilda had recently given to him.

First he was gazing at the setting sun, then he spent his time with counting the bats that swooped over the meadow at dusk. Recently he had started to count the stars. There weren't many yet but he had already counted twenty-seven. The first and the brightest ones.

Suddenly, there was some movement on the edge of the meadow. A lithe figure arrived, looking around in a clueless way. Prince Csaba for sure, looking for Artemis Faulus who was allegedly waiting for him.

The figure came a bit closer and the assassin didn't see much of him – it was still too early to see all the stars properly, but too late and dark already to make out facial expressions. Well, the figure was lithe and not exactly tall – that description fit the prince-to-be-murdered perfectly.

The assassin waited for the prince to come closer. And even closer… until he was at an arm's length from the bush the assassin was hiding in.

And then he lunged forward, grabbed the prince from behind and drove the Sword of God into his back.

The victim collapsed without even a groan.

"Too easy," the assassin grunted, bending down to pull the sword out of the victim's back. That was when he heard a faint whimper.

"Daaaad…"

That whimper must have been produced by someone young. Someone much younger than Prince Csaba.

A child. He had murdered a child.

Almost dropping the sword in shock, the assassin backed away from the still form lying on the grass. Queen Krimhilda would strangle him if she found out that he'd mistaken someone for the prince! What should he do?

_Run_, a voice told him. _Run and hide and never return._

_But what about the sword?_ – another voice in his mind asked.

_Wash it, take it back into the camp and leave it somewhere where a trustworthy person can find it… say, in one of the shamans' tent. Seer of Stars is at the feast right now, but if he finds the sword in his tent, he'd immediately give it back to the king…_

_Yes, that's it…_

Not even looking back, the assassin ran into the forest, towards the creek, to wash the child's blood off the blade.

o o o O O O o o o

Artemis was getting bored and hungry. When would Patrick deign to return with a piece of cake for him?

Suddenly some movement caught his ears. Could it be Patrick?

It was. But he wasn't carrying a cake, Artemis could tell in the light of a few candles. Nor was his son standing upright. He was on all fours as though he had dragged himself all the way up to the tent.

"Patrick!" Completely forgetting about his chest wound, Artemis leapt off the cot and ran to the boy to take him into his arms. "Patrick, what happened? Heavens, you're bleeding!"

"Someone… out there… meadow… bush… hiding… stabbed… ran away…"

"Okay, okay, don't talk, don't waste your energies… I'll go, get help, just… just lie down and don't move…"

Artemis wanted to stand up but Patrick grabbed his shoulder, holding him back with the last vestiges of his strength. "Daaaaad…"

"Yes?"

"I… I love you… Dad."

"I love you too Son. I'm going for help, I…"

The grip loosened on his shoulder, and in the candles' weak light Artemis saw a peaceful smile on Patrick's face.

"I'm proud… of being… your son."

The boy's hand fell off Artemis's shoulder and his head slumped back.

"Patrick!" Artemis whispered, reaching for the boy's wrist to feel a pulse. There was none.

"No…" Artemis pulled up his son's tunic and pressed his ear on the boy's chest. There wasn't a throb. Nothing, just silence.

Frozen, Artemis stared at the blood-stained carpet.

His son was dead.


	15. Losing Him Twice

**A/N: _Agi rubs her hands in a satisfied way_ I got so many desperate reviews saying 'oh no, not Patrick!' Only two reviewers thought of Fiona. Kudos to them, they're clever!**

**Review responses sent out, as usual. **

**Also thanks to: _Mousewolf, SPG, Zodokai, Purple Eyed Cat, Queen Dragon, JediWeasley, Aytheria, Lady Emerald Black (please sign in, otherwise I can't respond to your review), Cokkii, TheWatcherandReader, Lii, The White Lily, Longsworder, CarynG, artemisfowl12, hello, Moon Vampire, frenchpiment, Chibi Binasu-chan, The OddBird, __MissEcoFreakTheDarkPrecursor, AmethysNox, Fleury, JoJo, Anonymous, Teya Yashitoda, the grass is always greener, Saphira, Soccer101_**

**Chapter 15**

**Losing Him Twice**

_Dead. Patrick. Dead._

These two words were chasing each other in Artemis's mind, while an invisible, icy hand clenched at his heart. He felt cold, colder than at the Arctic, colder than ever before. This was an inner coldness that numbed him, made him unable to move, unable to think.

_Patrick. Dead._

His mind was frozen to such an extent that he couldn't make coherent thoughts aside from repeating those two words. And then came the images.

_Himself looking at a tiny compact mirror sort of thingie and first seeing little Patrick in it… the child must have been about a year old, toddling towards his mummy, his short arms flailing in the camera's direction…_

_First seeing Patrick in real life, inside the sacrificial chamber of Second Tenochtitlan and realising how much the boy looked and behaved like him…_

_A boy sitting on the edge of his bed in the fairy hospital, looking worriedly down at him…_

The same boy leaning forward and slipping into his embrace… 

"_I'm proud… of being… your son."_

Then slowly, other thoughts came. Thoughts of self-accusation. Had he not been hurt by Keve, then Patrick wouldn't have used all his magic on him and would have been able to heal himself… _It should've been **me** who died_…

One single tear ran down Artemis's left cheek, landing on the boy's forehead. "You shouldn't have wasted all your magic on me…" he muttered, as though the child could still hear him. But he could not.

Then another thought flashed across Artemis's mind. "Magic!" he breathed. "Fiona!"

An expression of exhilaration spread on his face. Of course! He had seen her return about an hour before! At that time Patrick had been at the party, so he couldn't have known the fairy was back otherwise he surely would have first gone to Fiona for help instead of crawling to his father's tent…

Adrenaline and a healthy amount of hope coursing through his veins, Artemis bent down and scooped up the boy. He stood up and almost fell – the boy weighed more than he was used to carrying, and he was still recuperating from his own injuries. But it didn't matter. His wound didn't matter. Patrick's life did. Only Patrick did.

Sagging under the boy's weight, Artemis stumbled out of the tent and broke into a run – as much as he _could_ run – towards the fairy's tent.

o o o O O O o o o

Fiona dropped the hairbrush she was just about to put into a sack as Artemis burst into her tent.

"Fiona!" he cried. He looked pale, he was breathing heavily, and the bandages that must have been hiding a rather nasty wound on his chest had soaked through. He looked a fright, but what most frightened Fiona was the sight of the limp form in his arms.

"What happened?" she whispered.

"You must save him," Artemis said, placing the boy on the fairy's cot.

"What?" She frowned.

"Your magic. Heal him."

"My… magic?" She blinked. How could this Mud Man know about magic?

"I know you have it, I'll explain later how I know, just save him, please," came the anxious reply.

_Right_, Fiona thought. This wasn't the time for explanations but for action. She leaned over the boy and slipped a hand into his shirt. There was a small wound on his abdomen, but it was immediately clear for her that the wound had been caused by a sword that had gone into the body from behind – its tip must have punctured the skin on his abdomen too, but the major wound must be on his back – and inside him. She grabbed the boy's wrist to feel his pulse and after a few seconds jerked her hand back in horror. "B…but… he's… he's already…"

"I know," Artemis sighed. "But you can bring him back!"

"What? No! I've never… it can't be done!"

"It can! I've seen your granddaughter do it, if she could, you can!"

"Grand…what?"

"I'll explain later, just do it, _please_!" Artemis was pleading. No, _beseeching_. Something he had never done in his whole life. "Quick! He's been dead for about three minutes already, after four minutes there will be brain damage!"

"Help me turn him over," Fiona said, trying to muster as much calmness as possible. Artemis complied without a word and the fairy quickly rolled up the child's shirt to have a better access to the place where the blade had gone in.

It was a nasty wound: not wide, but deep. The sword had been stabbed all the way through the body, after all. There was no way she could make it… she had never healed a wound this serious, and no fairy had ever brought back another one to life let alone a Mud Man… But Artemis was so desperate… and she too liked the boy… She had to give it a try.

When her father had still been alive, Fiona had been the cook in the small family and she'd felt revolted every time she had to slice a bigger chunk of juicy, raw meat into smaller pieces and avoided getting her fingers bloody as often as she could. Now, however, she knew she had to put her fingers as deep into the wound as possible – as deep into a Mud Boy's body as possible. This wasn't a time for revulsion.

Fighting down an urge to be sick, she stuck three of her fingers into the wound at Patrick's back. "_Heal_."

o o o O O O o o o

Csenge arrived at the meadow full of anticipation. The stars were visible enough already, so now all she had to do was wait for Patricius and the stargazing could begin. Well, _if _they got to look at the stars at all, she thought amusedly. She strongly hoped that most of the time Patricius would devote his attention to kissing her instead of to watching the Route of Armies…

She inhaled deeply – she had always loved the cool, fragrant night air. So beautiful, so quiet…

Then suddenly a voice caught her ear. "Fiona!" The voice shouted. It sounded like Patricius's brother… er… _father_, she corrected herself. And he sounded anxious.

Curiosity taking over, Csenge crept to the tent from where the cry had come. There was a heated discussion inside. She couldn't understand all of it, but there were a few distinctive words that she caught: _magic, heal, bring back, brain damage_. What was all this about?

Tentatively, she lifted the heavy curtain-like material covering the tent's entrance and peered inside. What she saw froze the blood in her veins. Patricius – _her_ Patricius – was lying on the cot, a huge wound on his back, and that crazy fairy-woman was pushing her fingers into the wound, thousands of blue sparks circling around them.

It continued on like this for a long time, but neither Artemis Faulus nor Fiona noticed the girl peeking into the tent: they were too busy keeping the boy in place. Csenge had never seen anyone's body thrash like this before. It looked like a fish out of water, struggling to return to the waves. It was a horrifying thing to look at. Still, Csenge couldn't move, couldn't run away, couldn't even turn her gaze away.

Then finally the thrashing stopped and the boy's body stilled. Fairy and human bent over him with worried expressions.

"Is he alive?" Artemis asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Yes," came the reply. "But still unconscious. Who… who tried to kill him?"

"I don't know," the man said, gently sweeping a lock of auburn hair out of the boy's sweat-soaked face. "Probably someone had been hiding out there in the bushes… just like that assassin who had tried to murder you."

"But… they couldn't have wanted to murder _me_ this time," the fairy said. "They couldn't have known I'd return today."

"No. That blade was meant for somebody else," Artemis said, suddenly pressing his hand over his bandages and falling to his knees.

"Frond, you're bleeding!" Fiona yelped. "You exerted yourself too much…"

"Doesn't matter…" the young man muttered, his face contorted with pain. "Had to… carry… Patrick… over…"

"_Patrick_?" a voice spoke up and both Artemis and Fiona looked in the direction of the entrance. There stood a pale Hun girl looking horror-struck. "Isn't… isn't his name… Patricius?"

Artemis opened his mouth to reply, but no voice came out, and in the next instant the girl turned on her heels and ran away.

Fiona helped Artemis into a chair and gently peeled off the bandages on his chest. "That's one nasty wound too," she observed. "I trust I have a little amount of magic left… barely any, but that should stop the bleeding and help the wound heal, at least partly."

Too much in pain, all Artemis could do was nod and let her treat him. Fiona laid her palm on the man's chest and ejected eight or nine sparks. "Apparently that's all I had left. But that should do for now."

Through half-closed eyelids, Artemis watched as those few sparks pulled the edges of his wound closer and closer until they formed one line only. The bleeding stopped and the pain subsided. He knew that if he hadn't carried Patrick, his wound wouldn't have opened… but it had been worth it. His son was alive and he wouldn't lose him again… _Never_, he swore.

"There, you're good as new. Well, almost," Fiona said with a small smile. "And now I'm awaiting your explanation, Artemis Faulus. And don't leave anything out."

Artemis took a deep breath. He hadn't been planning on telling anything about the reason for their visit-to-the-past to Fiona, but the cat was out of the bag… He had no choice but to tell her the truth. He only hoped that it wouldn't change anything… that it wouldn't change history.

"My real name isn't Artemis Faulus but Artemis Fowl. He," he gestured to Patrick, "is called Patrick and is my son."

"Your _son_?" Fiona's eyes widened. "Aren't you a bit too young to have a son this old?"

"I am… but he's still my son. And _your _great-grandson."

"My _what_?"

o o o O O O o o o

"Murder!" Csenge burst into the tent where most of the guests were still enjoying themselves at the wedding feast. She knew she'd find Prince Csaba there… "Patricius Faulus has been murdered!"

"What?" Mulch hopped up from the ground where he had been devouring half a chicken. "Little Pat died?" The hard-to-be-shaken dwarf paled and dropped his chicken.

"Well, he's back to life, but only because the fairy Fiona healed him, but he was dead!" Csenge said, breathless.

"What do you mean he was dead?" Prince Csaba rose from the table and walked up to the girl. "Who killed him?"

"I don't know, but someone attacked him on the meadow!" Csenge panted.

Krimhilda and Detre exchanged a sour glance, but nobody noticed.

"Come, let's go investigate," the prince said, beckoning to a few Huns who immediately rose from their seats and followed him. Csenge and Mulch ran after the Huns.

o o o O O O o o o

Artemis heaved a sigh. "It's a long and complicated story… I don't even know where to begin…"

"At the beginning, perhaps?" The fairy crossed her arms, giving the Mud Man a demanding glance.

"Well… at the beginning, okay… So, Patrick and I came from the future."

"Excuse me?" Fiona blinked.

"The future. From 2016, to be exact. About one thousand and five hundred years in the future. In that time I'm an inventor and I invented a machine that enables you to travel in time."

"Unbelievable," she breathed.

"I know, but it's still true. I'm a genius… well, used to be one… so I invented it, and when I was no longer a genius, Patrick helped me finish it."

The fairy glanced at the unconscious form of the boy. "How come he's your son and… _my_ great-grandson? It's just ridiculous…"

"Sounds ridiculous, eh?" Artemis grimaced. "I thought Holly was joking when she said we had a child together…"

"Holly?"

"Your granddaughter. An elf in my time. You remind me a lot of her, but her hair is much shorter…"

"I still don't get it…" Fiona shook her head. "Let's assume that I believe you that you've come from the future. It's totally absurd, but let's say I believe it. But how on earth could a fairy and Mud Man have a child together, huh? They just don't… fit… down there." She blushed and looked away.

"We didn't have Patrick the traditional way. It was artificial insemination."

"What?"

"You don't have such a thing yet, do you?" he sighed. Apparently not even fairy technology was that advanced in Attila's time.

She shook her head.

"Well, it's like this: doctors get an egg from the female and some sperm from the male and let them join in a petri dish… I trust you know what an egg is and what sperm is?"

"Not really…"

_Great. Just great_, Artemis fumed. It seemed that fairies in 453 had the same amount of knowledge on reproduction as humans did till the twentieth century: all they knew was that they had to sleep together and it _somehow_ got the females pregnant, but they didn't know how exactly. "Well, listen… I don't want to give you a biology lesson, so please accept the fact that Holly and I didn't sleep together but we still had Patrick. I didn't even know about his existence until Holly came to me and asked for my help to find the boy who had been kidnapped… So we went after Patrick and saved him, and in the meantime, we realised we loved each other…"

"You _love_ my granddaughter?"

"Yes. I married her and she's expecting a baby now. I mean, in the future. And that baby was conceived the _traditional_ way."

"But… but… how? You can't fit, it's impossible!"

"Oh, that was Patrick's doing… he invented a serum that can turn a fairy into a Mud Man look-a-like. Holly drank it, and joined me to live with me as a Mud Woman. Patrick used the same serum to look like he does now, as normally he's shorter and has pointy ears."

"My… granddaughter… She left her people to live with _you_?" Fiona breathed.

A proud smile spread on Artemis's face. "Yes, she did. A wonderful woman, Holly. So fiery, so courageous… she's working for the Lower Elements Police. Or _was _working for them until she left."

For a few seconds Fiona stared at the young man in silence, then glanced at her great-grandson (she still barely could believe it), and finally spoke up: "In your time, do the Mud People know about us fairies?"

"No. Only my family and no one else. Well, save the kidnapper..."

"What kidnapper? And how come you know about us? How did you meet my… granddaughter in the first place?"

"I used to be a genius, as I've already mentioned. I found out about the fairies' existence thank to my genius, and… I hate to say it, but I utilised them to my own ends."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I kidnapped a fairy for ransom."

Fiona's eyes narrowed. "Let me guess, it was Holly you kidnapped."

He nodded.

"How come she fell in love with her kidnapper? No fairy in their right mind would!"

"Well, Holly's always been different from the rest." Artemis shrugged with a grin. "She's special… and I love her for that."

Fiona bit into her lower lip. She longed to argue, she longed to tell him she didn't believe it was possible for a fairy to fall for a Mud Man, but she had to remind herself that it had happened to her as well. She loved Attila. Her granddaughter (whose grandfather was obviously Alexius Short) loved this young Mud Man here. Could the inclination to fall in love with Mud Men be inherited? Could it be possible that Holly inherited it from her?

"So…" She looked up to meet Artemis's eyes, "I suppose you're my grandson-in-law or whatever you call that…"

"Something like that." Artemis smiled.

Fiona returned the smile, then her expression changed back to serious. "Why are you here? Why have you come back in time?"

His lips twitched. He was hoping she'd forget to ask him this… But she was just as inquisitive as Holly…

"Holly was kidnapped from our wedding celebration. The kidnapper left me a message, believing me to still be a genius. She… yes, it was a woman, wanted me to find out where Attila was buried. The location of the grave is the key to Holly's freedom."

"I still don't get it." She furrowed her brow. "Why have you come back to _this time_? What does it have to do with Attila's grave?"

"That grave is well-hidden. Several archaeologists in my time tried to find it, but it was impossible. Allegedly the Huns diverted the course of the river Tisza and dug the grave there, then diverted the water back into its bed. For centuries the Tisza used to have lots of bends that caused serious floods. To take care of this problem, several new channels have been dug for the river to straighten out its course, and the place where Attila is resting is very likely not in the bed of the Tisza in 2016. I am here to witness the funeral or the grave-digging and deliver the coordinates to the kidnapper."

"Coordi-what?"

"The exact location of the grave."

"Oh, I see. But how can you witness the funeral? Attila's not dead," Fiona said, almost sounding amused.

"Perhaps he _is_ already."

"WHAT?"

"He was murdered on his wedding night with Mikolt. By Mikolt."

The fairy gaped at him like a fish. "M…mikolt killing Attila? But… but tonight's the wedding night!"

"That's why I said he might be dead already."

"_Attila_!" Fiona breathed and ran for the entrance.

"Fiona, wait!" Artemis jumped up from the chair and hurried out into the night. "Wait, Fiona! You can't change history! It can have a radical outcome if you do!"

She doubled back. "Am I supposed to sit back and allow that cow to kill him?" Her voice was wavering and even though Artemis couldn't see her features in the dark, he assumed she must have been crying.

"If you don't want to ruin everything – yes," he said calmly, clutching at his side. He still wasn't healthy enough to run this fast.

"Ruin everything?" she snapped. "His death would do just that!"

"No. His death is history. And if you change that, you might change more than you think. You don't have the right for that. Nobody does."

"But does Mikolt have the right to kill him?"

"No. But you don't have the right to stop her."

"Why… why not?"

"Because you might rob people of their future with an action like that. If Attila stays alive, he might change history so much that it would influence not only humans but fairies as well."

"How? How could he influence fairy history?"

"I don't know." Artemis shrugged. "But we mustn't risk it. History has happened already, in my time. And I'm _not_ here to change it. I can't let _you_ change it either."

"Would you fight me?" she demanded.

"If I had to…"

"I've just saved your life you ungrateful…"

"I'm not ungrateful, Fiona. Just reasonable. While you're thinking with your heart, I'm trying to think with my brains. And I ask you to stop _feeling_ for a single minute and look at things with a cool head. Would you risk the future of your kind, would you risk the future of your son and your granddaughter, just to save the man you love?"

"How… do you know that I… love him?" She shuddered. Had she been broadcasting it to everyone in the camp?

"It was pretty obvious," Artemis said gently, and walked up to her to lay a hand on her shoulder. "I understand your feelings, Fiona… and I know it hurts, but-"

"Artemis Faulus!" Prince Csaba came hurrying towards them with a few Huns and Mulch in tow. "We heard your son was injured…"

"He's fine already… I think. Isn't he?"

"He is," Fiona replied in a voice full of resignation. Only Artemis knew the reason for her sounding so sad. But at least she finally appeared to be convinced that she mustn't intervene. "Come, let's go back and check on him."

"And you could tell us the details there," the prince suggested.

They entered the tent to find Patrick awake already, squinting at them tiredly. He looked pale and sick but not a bit older than he had before the healing. Artemis had feared that the 'resurrection' might affect his son in a similar way it had Butler, but it hadn't – very likely because Patrick was still too young and a half-fairy with a life-expectancy of about a thousand years. Surely using a few decades of life-force for the healing wouldn't be as visible on him as it had been on the bodyguard.

"Dad," he whispered, a smile spreading on his face. "How come I'm still alive? Wasn't the injury… too bad for that?"

"It was. But Fiona brought you back." Artemis sat down at the cot and took Patrick's hand. "You'll be all right soon."

"Does she know…?"

"She knows everything."

Fiona gave the boy a sad smile and Artemis's heart plummeted. Now that he had already talked to his son, now that he was sure Patrick was alive and well, he finally dared let himself imagine what Fiona must be feeling. Letting the beloved man be killed… She must have been an unusually strong woman to be able to keep herself upright and act as though nothing happened.

Prince Csaba walked up to the cot and gave the little invalid an encouraging smile. "Hey, Patricius. Nice to see you alive. I know you must be feeling very tired, but I need to ask you a few questions."

"Go ahead," the boy muttered.

"Did you see your attacker?"

"No, your highness. He attacked… from behind."

"Did you lose consciousness immediately?"

"No. After I collapsed, I heard him run away. But… not right after I collapsed. About a minute later. I… I think he must have established… that I wasn't… the one… he wanted to kill. And he got frightened… I gathered all my strength and… crawled to father's tent… and there I passed out."

The prince gave Artemis a questioning stare.

"My son didn't know that Fiona returned but I did. And I heard it from a few of the Huns that she was considered a fairy, so I thought she might be able to… use magic on my son to heal him… and I was right." He tried to look as innocent as possible and not reveal to the prince that he knew all about fairies.

"I never thought you had healing magic," Csaba told Fiona. "And you never told any of us. Or did father know?"

Fiona's face darkened at the mention of Attila, but she nodded. "He knew. Once he even asked me to use it on you."

"On me?" Csaba blinked.

"Yeah." The fairy nodded. "But you can't remember. You were around twelve and very sick. Pneumonia. Even the shamans thought you'd die… but I saved you."

"Well… thank you."

Fiona shrugged. "That was the least I could do for Attila. I knew how much you meant to him."

The prince turned back to Patrick. "Are you absolutely sure the attacker wanted to kill someone else?"

"It's logical," the boy said faintly. "Who would want to… murder _me_? I'm not a person… of importance."

"Then the question remains: who was the real target?" Csaba mused.

"Obviously someone who should have appeared on the meadow around the same time as my son did," Artemis suggested.

"You girl, did you see anyone around?" Csaba asked Csenge who had been standing silently behind the Hun men.

"No one, your highness." The girl shook her head, her black braids swinging around her neck. "And I doubt that _I_ could have been the target… after all, no one besides Patricius knew I'd be there."

Artemis arched an eyebrow at the girl. "Were you two about to have a date there or what?"

Csenge blushed. "We just wanted to stargaze, sir."

"Indeed?" Artemis looked amused and squinted at his son who didn't look nearly as pale anymore – his cheeks now had a healthy rosy tinge.

"Well, we'd better be going," Csaba said. "Your son needs some rest. Good night." With that he exited the tent, followed by the little group of Huns.

"Good night, Patricius… er… Patrick…" Csenge waved at the reclining boy with a sheepish grin and hurried away.

Artemis, his son, Mulch and Fiona were left alone and heavy silence fell on the tent.

It was Patrick who first spoke up. "Dad… how long… was I dead?"

"About four minutes, Son."

"Do you think… I sustained some… brain damage?" the boy asked with a worried expression.

"354x26?"

"9204," Patrick replied after about five seconds.

"No brain damage." Artemis smirked, then the smirk faded off his face as he spotted Fiona sitting on a chair, her face hidden in her palms. "You decided bravely, Fiona," he said.

The fairy looked up to reveal a tear soaked face. "I wish I felt the same way… But I don't."

o o o O O O o o o

Artemis woke to find himself sitting on the carpet in Fiona's tent, his head bent on the bed Patrick was reclining on. For a few seconds he watched Mulch snoring on another carpet near him, then his glance turned to his son.

The boy looked pale but his chest was rising and falling rhythmically, so Artemis assumed he really must be on the way of recovery. The knowledge that his son had survived – correction, been resurrected – made him feel more relieved than he had ever felt before, not to mention that his heart was filled to bursting with some so far unknown joy. Was this the same feeling that average fathers felt when watching their healthy, handsome sons sleep? Artemis didn't know – all he knew was that he was happy. _He_ was happy, while others were suffering, he reminded himself.

He quickly looked around to spot Fiona sitting on her human-sized chair, her tiny legs drawn up and her arms encircling them. She rested her chin on her knees and was gazing determinedly at the floor, her eyes unfocused. Artemis saw several smudgy streaks her tears had left on her face. She was no longer crying, she seemed to have acquiesced herself to Attila's death. It was only a matter of hours or minutes until they heard an exasperated hustle and bustle from the camp, carrying the news about the king's death…

And indeed, in half an hour when Patrick was awake already, Csenge and Irnik put in an appearance, Irnik's face pale and his sister's eyes wide with terror.

"Have you heard it?" Irnik croaked.

"What?" Artemis tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. No one was supposed to find out that he had known about Attila's imminent death.

"The king's dead!" Csenge cried. "He died in his sleep of haemorrhage of the nose!"

Artemis squinted at Fiona to see that the fairy's hands clenched into fists. She knew from Artemis that it was Mikolt who killed Attila, not a mere nosebleed.

"That is horrible," Artemis said with as much compassion in his voice as he could muster.

"Yeah, horrible," Patrick added in a weak voice.

"Yes, isn't it?" Csenge nodded, giving the boy a gentle glance.

"And guess what else happened?" Irnik added.

"What?"

"Seer of Stars found Attila's sword in his tent after returning there for the night. No one knows how the Sword of God got there, who put it there and why…"

"Perhaps it was the attacker…" Artemis mused.

"The one who wanted to kill Patricius… er, Patrick?" the girl said, frowning.

"Could be… but of course that person wanted to kill someone else, not Patrick. Perhaps they wanted to kill the prince," Artemis replied.

"Csaba?" Fiona gasped.

"It sounds logical," Patrick commented. "After all… Seer of Stars made that prophecy… according to which only a magical weapon could kill the prince… and that sword is said to have magical properties, right?"

"Yes, Attila himself told me that his sword was magical," his father answered. "It's possible that once the attacker realised that it wasn't the prince he managed to stab, he got frightened and wanted to dispose of the corpus delicti…"

"The what?" Fiona, Irnik and Csenge blinked.

"The blooded sword. The proof that _he_ had wielded it," Artemis explained. "So I'd say he cleaned the sword, probably washed it in the creek, then left it on neutral territory. The shaman's house was perfect for that."

"Then the prince's life is in danger," Fiona concluded, standing up. "I need to warn him."

"Fiona…" Artemis began, but she was already out of the tent. He got up and hurried after her.

"Don't even try to stop me," she snapped, never stopping in her stride. "I couldn't warn Attila, as it would have meant I was changing history, but at least I can warn Csaba, can't I? Or would that too mean changing history, eh?"

"No." The Irishman shook his head. "No, Csaba survived and lived for quite a few years after his father's death."

"Then he perhaps survives _because_ I warn him," she said, finally coming to a halt.

"Well… perhaps. I just wanted to say I was sorry… about Attila."

"Sorry? You?" she let out a bitter laugh. "What do you know of losing someone you love?"

"Actually, a lot. In my time, I lost Holly."

"She was only kidnapped, but she lives!" Fiona stamped her foot.

"But she _might_ die if I don't manage to accomplish this mission," he said darkly, shuddering at the thought of _really_ losing Holly.

"What mission?"

"Finding out where Attila was buried," he reminded her.

"Oh yeah… that," she sighed, resigned. "I'll help you, Artemis Fowl, but only for the sake of my granddaughter and great-grandson. Attila should be buried within a few days and the preparations of the funeral should start right today. I'll find out where they start digging the grave, and… D'Arvit, I can't."

"Can't what?"

"Shield. I can't shield. All my magic's gone! I forgot. I can't sneak around invisible…"

"But you can… together with me," Artemis replied.

"What are you talking about, Mud Man?" She frowned. "You don't have magic powers!"

"No, but I have a camouflage foil."

"Cam… what?"

"Go and warn the prince about the danger, and when you return, I'll show you the cam foil."

"All right." She nodded and hurried off.

o o o O O O o o o

Artemis spent the rest of the day with his son who was recuperating in Fiona's tent. Even though the Hun camp was the epitome of upheaval at the moment, Artemis caught himself enjoying having simple father-to-son talks with Patrick. It was much easier to talk about Patrick's as well as his childhood or the way he and Holly had first met than he had ever expected. So far he had lived in the belief that reminiscing about his childhood or first love was not only a useless waste of time but also highly embarrassing. Now, however, that he had almost lost his precious son, he came to realise that they were supposed to make up for all the years they had spent apart, not even knowing about each other.

Patrick, despite being a genius, was more than willing to open up and disclose petty little secrets to his father, like going behind Foaly's back and re-writing a few of his programs, and Artemis couldn't help but grin, imagining the centaur's dumbstruck expression upon realising that something was seriously amiss with his perfect little programs. He even confided in his son about a few 'pranks' he had pulled on his parents at the age of six. Neither Artemis, nor Patrick noticed Mulch rolling his eyes in the corner.

o o o O O O o o o

Hours passed with Patrick sometimes dropping off, sometimes awakening again to carry on with their father-son chat, and by the time Fiona returned, Artemis was practically glowing with the pride and joy of being a father (and being a father to such a special child at that).

It was around sundown that the fairy put in an appearance, and Mulch didn't miss the chance to tell her that she looked absolutely horrible. She had shadows under her eyes and her face was still dirty from the tears shed the previous night.

Without even giving the dwarf a nasty glance, Fiona dropped herself into her chair with a sigh.

"Have you succeeded in warning Csaba?" Artemis enquired.

She nodded. "Yeah, but I only had a few minutes with him alone, as he was constantly surrounded by the Hun dignitaries. They're licking his boots already, knowing that he's going to be the king in a few days…"

Artemis didn't want to mention that Csaba never got to be the king of the Huns, so he just motioned her to carry on.

"They're planning the funeral already," she said in a tired voice. "The grave-digging will start tomorrow."

"Where?" Artemis asked.

Fiona gave him a wry smile, knowing that this was the piece of information he had travelled back in time for. "By the river Tisza."

"I know that already," the Irishman grunted. "Could you be a bit more specific?"

"I don't know the exact location, Artemis. I couldn't stay all through the meeting Prince Csaba and the noblemen had, so I caught only a few words… but judging by what I heard, it's got to be around the place where the creek runs into the Tisza."

"Well then, we have to go and investigate tomorrow. Under the cam foil, of course."

"Can I go too?" Mulch enquired.

"So that you could return there later and rob the grave?" Artemis raised an eyebrow at the dwarf. "No, Mulch, you may not come with us."

"Spoilsport," Diggums murmured, and his nose up in the air, trotted out of the tent.

"Some never change, eh?" Patrick sniggered, and seeing his great-grandmother's confused expression, he added: "Mulch's a kleptomaniac. Prefers stealing gold."

o o o O O O o o o

The following day Artemis and Fiona got up early. Irnik and Csenge came to visit Patrick who felt strong enough to sit up already, and Artemis was glad that his son had company while he and the fairy were away, trying to have a sneak view of the grave-digging place.

Artemis pocketed the tiny locator he had brought with him to the past, and walked with Fiona to the edge of the forest where they put the cam foil on themselves.

"And, how did Prince Csaba react when you told him that someone was very likely after his blood?" he asked as they made their way across the woods, towards a place about five-six kilometres to the north.

"I couldn't say he was surprised," she replied, her voice sounding cold and completely devoid of emotions. "He said the life of royalties had always been a risk, but it was a risk worth taking, as only royalties had the influence to make the lives of their people better. Csaba's such an idealist… He even asked me if I could bring his father back… but I told him that all my magic was drained."

"And you couldn't have brought him back without brain damage," Artemis reminded her. "You would have brought his body back, but not his mind."

"I don't know how these things work." She shrugged.

"Did Csaba tell you whom he suspected of being the mastermind behind the attack?"

"No, but I know who _I_ suspect," she replied bitterly.

"Aladár?"

"Him, or his mother. Or Detre. That German's always had a shifty look about him. He gives me the creeps."

"Yes, kind of reminds me of a man called Jon Spiro… and that Krimhilda looks like a devious witch… a bit like Opal Koboi."

"Who?"

"A pixie in my time. She almost ruined Haven once and got thrown into prison for it. But she mended her ways… or least she _pretends_ to have mended them, and she's being _friendly_ with Mulch."

"Friendly?" She arched an eyebrow at him.

"They're lovers."

"A pixie and a dwarf? But that's unheard of!"

"Just like an elf and a Mud Man," he reminded her. "But it still works, between Holly and me, and apparently between Mulch and Opal too. By the way, speaking of devious little witches… what happened to Mikolt?"

"Nothing," Fiona hissed. "The shamans decided it would be best to keep it a secret that Attila was murdered, and that little bitch got away with it! She's going to be sent back to her homeland of Bactria, and live happily ever after! Holy Frond, how can Mud People be so thick? Most of the time they hang and burn and be-head the innocent, and when they have a real criminal on their hands, they let them go!"

"I'm sure the Huns had their reasons for doing so," Artemis said. "I expect they don't want the surrounding nations that the Huns had subjugated, to know that the great king died in the bridal bed, at the hands of his innocent, virgin wife. Everyone would be laughing at him…"

"Laugh at him?" she snapped. "_No one is entitled to laugh at Attila! You hear me? No one_!"

"That's why the shamans thought it better to spread the news that he died a natural death. Perhaps that too sounds a bit… embarrassing for a great warrior like him, but not nearly as embarrassing as the knowledge that a weak woman murdered him. And so that you know: in my time the world remembers him as a great and fearsome warrior, and a wonderful strategist."

Fiona looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. "Really?" she whispered.

"Really," he replied gently.

For a few minutes they continued walking without a single word, then the fairy broke the silence. "Artemis… tell me more about my granddaughter, will you?"

A warm smile spread on the Irishman's face. "Gladly, Fiona."

o o o O O O o o o

It was late in the afternoon that Artemis and Fiona returned to the tent.

"You looked exhausted, Dad," Patrick commented, sitting on his cot.

"If you too had walked twelve kilometres, you wouldn't be any more fit than I am," his father retorted, though he didn't really manage to sound resentful. "How're you doing, by the way?"

"Fine, Dad. Even walked for a few minutes."

"Indeed?"

"Yes," Csenge trilled enthusiastically. "We didn't want to let him get up, but he's just stubborn. So, Irnik and I supported him from both sides, and we made a little walk outside."

"That's great, Son, I'm happy for you," Artemis said, rubbing his grumbling stomach.

"Oh, you must be hungry!" Csenge perceived. "I'm off to Mum's tent and bring you something, okay?"

"I've got to go too," Irnik added. "No one's fed the horses yet, they must be starving, the poor things."

"Okay then, see you tomorrow." Patrick smiled, even though his heart was filled with sadness. He knew that if his father had succeeded in finding out what they had come here for, then they'd be leaving soon and he might not see his friends again – neither tomorrow, nor ever.

After the Hun siblings departed, Patrick immediately turned to his father. "So?"

"So, we've got the coordinates," Artemis replied.

"That's great," the boy said half-heartedly. "And, what was it like?"

"The digging? Interesting, to say the least. A few thousands slaves were working on diverting the course of the river. We watched them for about an hour."

"And? Are we leaving tomorrow?"

"We're leaving as soon as you feel up to walking longer distances," Artemis replied.

"Then let's leave tomorrow," Patrick said determinedly. The more time he spent with Irnik and especially with Csenge, the harder it would be to part with them.

"Are you sure you can walk that much in your condition?" Fiona frowned.

"Yes, I am. I'm feeling stronger and stronger by the minute. One wouldn't think I was dead just one and a half days ago…"

"Patrick…"

"Yes, Dad?"

"What did it feel like… to die?"

"I don't exactly remember." The boy shrugged. "I was hurting all over, and then suddenly, the pain was gone, and I saw some bright light. It was very bright, but before I could have started enjoying it, I got dragged back."

In about ten minutes, Csenge returned with their dinner. Artemis gladly took a bowl of porridge, but Patrick, instead of taking his, got up shakily and walked up to the girl.

"Let's go outside, shall we?"

Csenge knitted her eyebrows, not knowing what could be so important for 'Patricius' to let his dinner get cold.

"Are you sure you can…?" Artemis asked.

"…Walk? Yes, Dad. And Csenge will help me," the boy said seriously.

The Hun girl propped him from his left and helped him walk outside.

It was a wonderful spring evening, the last rays of the sun painted the sky orange, and the air was heavy with the fragrance of the wild flowers that grew on the nearby meadow.

Patrick stopped by a beech tree, and shifting his arm from Csenge's shoulder, he took hold of her hands. "Csenge, I… need to say good-bye."

"Good-bye?" She echoed him, her black eyes narrowing. "Are you leaving, Patricius… er… Patrick?"

"Call me Patricius if you like." He smiled sadly. "And yes, we're leaving. Tomorrow."

"Why so soon? You need to recover!"

"I'm feeling well enough…"

"But why haven't you told me any earlier-?"

"Because I didn't know when we'd be leaving. My father just told me that we had to leave tomorrow."

"Couldn't you… couldn't you stay just a few more days?" she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears.

He looked away, unable to watch her cry. "No, Csenge, we can't. We have to get to Thracia… you know, where my brother's fiancée is waiting for us. We're going to get there late as it is, we can't afford to be any later than we already are."

"And could you come and visit us on your way back from Thracia?" she asked hopefully.

He shook his head. "I'm assuming we're going to go from Thracia to Britannia by ship or something… So we won't meet again." He looked down at their intertwined hands. "This is good-bye, forever, Csenge."

"I will miss you, Patrick," she breathed, and a single droplet of tear fell on his hand holding hers.

"I'll miss you too," he replied, slipping his left hand out of hers and gently wiping her tears away. "And I will always remember you. After all, you were my first girlfriend…"

Csenge let out a chuckle, a small smile spreading on her tear-soaked face.

"You know, you look really pretty when you're smiling…"

"Do I, really?" she asked, inching a bit closer.

"Yes, you do," he murmured, leaning even closer to her until their lips met in a quick, chaste kiss.

o o o O O O o o o

"Hey, Arty, have you seen your little boy?" Mulch asked upon entering Fiona's tent.

"Why and when?" Artemis responded, ladling his porridge.

"Just now." The dwarf grinned. "He and that girl with long braids are smooching outside. They didn't even notice me as I walked past them…"

Artemis couldn't suppress a grimace. His son was snogging a girl at the age of twelve, while he had been twenty-six when he got his first kiss-on-the-lips from one Aztec princess. Then again, hopefully his son wouldn't get to be a father at age fourteen…

"I presume he's saying good-bye to her," he said finally. "We're going home tomorrow, Mulch."

"Ah, really? Good." The dwarf clasped his hands delightedly. "I've been missing those chocolate truffles that Opal and I usually eat in bed…"

"In bed?" Artemis blinked.

"Yeah…" Mulch smirked. "_Before_ _it_, to gain more strength, and _after it_, to help us drop off more easily. It works both ways, see. Great things, truffles… You and Holly should try them some day."

"Thank you very much, but Holly and I can perform wonderfully in bed even without truffles," Artemis countered.

"Yeah? How many times a night?" the dwarf said challengingly.

"Five has been our record… but I bet we could do better if we tried," Artemis replied with a triumphant grin.

_Men_, Fiona thought, rolling her eyes.

o o o O O O o o o

_The following day_

"Good-bye, Fiona," Artemis said, dropping to his knees to be at the same eye-level with the fairy. He remembered having said good-bye to Holly just like this at Haven after the Aztec Incident. The only difference was that at that time he had been saying farewell to this only love, and this time to his only love's grandmother. "I'd like to thank you for everything. For healing Patrick and me, for showing me where the grave was, for believing what I told you about Holly in the first place… I'm truly grateful to you, Fiona."

The fairy gave him a sad smile. "You're welcome, Artemis. Just make sure you free my granddaughter… and make her happy. If you don't, I'll come and haunt you as long as you live!"

"I promise I will make her happy," Artemis replied, knowing well enough what that sad smile on her face meant: she was happy that her granddaughter had a chance to be happy with a Mud Man, but she was grieving after Attila and the happiness she could never have had with him.

"Bye, Great-grandma." Patrick hugged the elf woman affectionately.

"Be a good boy, Patrick." She grinned up at him.

Finally Mulch stepped to her and held out his hand. "It's been a pleasure knowing you, Miss Springwater…"

"Give that back to her," Artemis said.

Rolling his eyes, Mulch pulled a silver spoon out of his pocket and handed it back to Fiona. "Can't help it, Miss. Kleptomania is a serious illness…"

"I'm sure it is," Fiona said, trying to keep her face straight, but despite all her efforts the right corner of her mouth tucked into a small, barely visible smile.

o o o O O O o o o

_4 p.m., 15th July 2016, Szeged, Hungary_

"I can't believe we're back in our time at last," Mulch sighed happily, dropping himself into an armchair in their hotel room.

"Yes… it feels nice to be back," Artemis said heavily.

"Too bad we couldn't stay and help Csaba find the attacker…" Patrick added, sitting down on the bed. He still didn't feel completely healthy and got tired quickly.

"Not to mention that you could have spent a bit more time with Miss Braids," the dwarf said with a knowing grin.

"Come off it, Mulch!" the boy snapped. "I want to forget her as soon as possible, and it won't help much if you keep mentioning her." With a sullen expression, he turned away from the dwarf and pulled the transporter out of his pocket. Luckily the tiny gadget hadn't broken when he'd thrown it in his anger over not being able to help his father. Just before they set their time machines to 15th July, 2016, he had dived under Mulch's cot and retrieved the machine in the hope that he'd manage to complete it in their own time. Now all he needed was to get back to Haven and find a coordinator stabilisator and build it into the gadget.

Artemis saw what his son was holding and made a grimace. They were back in _their _time, and here he again had to face the lack of his genius more than he had to in the Hun camp. He could say they were back to _reality_, and he was again facing the same problems he had had before leaving for the past.

Feeling his father's glance on himself, and especially on the transporter in his hand, Patrick spoke up just to turn Artemis's attention to something else: "You know, the only thing I feel sorry about is that we never got to see Attila's funeral. You told me what history books wrote about it, Dad, and it must've been grand. Wish I could've seen it…"

"In all honesty, I'm not a bit sorry to have missed the funeral," his father replied darkly. "I very much dislike funerals. There's nothing fun about them, no matter how spectacular they are. The only thing that _I_ am sorry about is that we never had a chance to say good-bye to Prince Csaba. He must be thinking we escaped or something… In polite circles it is required to say good-bye and thank-you to whomever helped you. He's done a lot for us, after all."

"Yeah, he did…" Patrick nodded. "But at least we could properly say good-bye and thank-you to Fiona. I've grown fond of her, a lot…"

A small smile appeared on the Irishman's face. "Me too. She reminds me a lot of your mother. Or the other way around."

Before anyone could accuse him of going sentimental, Artemis switched on his laptop to look at his emails. After all, he had chosen this particular hotel because it had WIFI in every room – there weren't many other hotels like that, especially not in Szeged.

"Well, this _is_ interesting," he spoke up after a few minutes.

"What?" Mulch and Patrick asked in unison.

"Listen to this: _Dear Mr Fowl, It has been brought to my knowledge that you've left for Hungary. I trust you have some invaluable information that guides you on your search after the grave. Therefore, I am willing to give you three more days to find it. After all, what good would it do to either of us if I happened to hurt your little wife and didn't even get the information I need? You find the grave and give me the coordinates, I release your precious wife, and both of us will be satisfied. I am going to contact you on the 19th July. Sincerely, The Kidnapper_."

"So we have another three days," Mulch sighed contentedly. "We have the coordinates, and we can sit back and do nothing for three whole days. Does this hotel have a wellness centre?"

"Didn't you say you wanted to go back to Opal and eat chocolate truffles as soon as possible?" Artemis asked with a lopsided grin.

"Yeah, I did, but I bet we could get chocolate truffles even here if we asked for them. And eating them while a pretty girl is massaging my back is just as good as eating them with Opal in bed. Not to mention that I can get Opal in bed whenever I want, while I can't get a nice backrub as often as I'd like to."

"Dad…?"

"Yes, Patrick?"

"If we have three more days, then it means we don't have to hurry back to Ireland, so…"

"What are you getting at, Son?"

"I'd like to see the funeral."

"No way."

"You wouldn't need to come," Patrick said. "I can go alone. And I'll be back before you can say LEPRecon."

Artemis studied his son's face to see true eagerness and interest on it. And well, what could it harm anyone to let the boy have a bit of fun – even if that bit of fun was attending a funeral?

"I'm not sure about this, Patrick," he said. "Apparently we _were_ _supposed to_ go back in time to persuade Fiona to marry your great-grandpa, but this one would be a futile journey… something that we don't _need to_ do… something that we _aren't supposed to do_. Do you understand why I mean?"

"I do, Dad. You're afraid that this journey might change something – something that isn't supposed to be changed. But don't worry, I'll take the camfoil, and no one will see me, so I couldn't change anything."

"You don't even know where the grave was dug," Artemis said, hopeful that Patrick would be dissuaded at last.

"But Fiona does. I could ask her to take me there," the boy insisted.

Artemis heaved a sigh. "I think I'm going to regret this…"

Patrick's face brightened. "May I go then?"

"You may. But I will accompany you. I'm not letting you travel in time alone in your condition."

"I'll go too," Mulch said. "It isn't every day that you get to see a king's funeral… Don't look at me like that, I promise not to steal anything…"

Artemis and Patrick exchanged an amused look, not seeing that Mulch's fingers were crossed behind his back.

"Right," Artemis said. "All the three of us go, but only tomorrow morning. I badly need a good night's sleep in a _comfortable_ bed, not to mention that I need to soak in the bathtub for at least an hour to get all the filth that I gathered in the Hun camp off myself."

"That means if we leave tomorrow morning, say, at ten o'clock, then we can only come back to 16th July, one second after ten, right?" Patrick asked.

"Exactly." Artemis nodded. "At least that's how this time machine works. There can't be two of you at the same time at the same place…"

"Are you absolutely sure this theory is right, Dad?" the boy wondered.

"To be honest, I'm not a hundred percent sure. Before I lost my genius, I _was_ sure, but now I'm not clever enough to rethink my earlier theories and find their faults – _if _there were any faults."

"I'm pretty sure it's possible to build a time-machine that transports you back and forth in time in a way to make it possible for you to have two versions of yourself at the same time at the same place," Patrick said seriously. "I'll meditate on it, and tell you if I find the solution to this problem. But first I want to get my transporter ready."

"Do so, Son." Artemis shrugged. He couldn't have cared less if his son found a way to enable someone to have two or more versions of themselves at the same time and place. He doubted it could be accomplished, anyway.

o o o O O O o o o

_The forest near Attila's camp, 20th April, 453_

"Are you sure the funeral is today, Arty?" Mulch asked, munching on a few pieces of crystallised cantaloupe he had brought on the journey from the hotel.

"I am." Artemis nodded. "Fiona and I saw the grave-digging on the 17th and she said that the funeral would be in three days because Csaba decided to have a three-day-long burial-feast in memory of his father. Hun tradition. Remember that scarred Hun we first met? That was one of the Hun warriors who gave each other serious injuries in a fight in Attila's memory. Another Hun tradition."

"Lovely," Patrick said dryly. "Let's put the camfoil on us then, shall we?"

o o o O O O o o o

Artemis led the way across the woods to the place where he and the fairy girl had seen the thousands of slaves diverting river Tisza's course.

It took them about three hours to get there, and due to Patrick's weakness they had to stop several times to rest a bit.

Once they got out of the woods, they found themselves on the edge of what looked like a place that had recently been flooded. The bed of Tisza was empty, but the ground was still soggy and littered with half-dried reed-grass. It must have been difficult to dig a grave into such soggy soil, but the slaves had succeeded: in the middle of the riverbed was a large and deep, rectangular dent.

Artemis, Patrick and Mulch crouched down behind a bush to observe the scenery from there, as it was close enough to see everything they wanted to see, but far enough for the Huns not to notice their presence. After all, not even camfoil gave someone total invisibility, it just helped them to blend in…

For hours they waited for something to happen, but the riverbed remained deserted.

"I'm starting to feel worried," Artemis said. "Not a soul's here. Is it possible that the funeral's postponed?"

"Dunno," Mulch said. "I'll go and investigate, okay?"

"What do you mean by investigating?" the Irishman demanded, worried that the dwarf might get them into trouble.

"I'll eat my way to the village and see what's up there, then return here. You know I can reach there and back much quicker underground…"

Artemis seemed contemplative for a few seconds. He didn't like the idea of Mulch leaving, but staying here without any information was just as bad. "All right, but try and keep out of trouble."

"Don't worry about me, Arty!" With that, Mulch dived into the soil.

Barely had the dwarf's legs disappeared into the ground when someone tapped Artemis on the back.

Blood frozen in his veins, he turned around, fearing to see a vicious Hun warrior pointing a lance at him. But it was only Fiona.

"May I ask what you three are doing here?" She asked with her arms akimbo.

"Do you _see_ us? Through the foil?" Patrick gasped.

"No. I _heard_ you," she replied. "Someones have been whispering to each other about a possibly postponed funeral and I assumed that the bush couldn't have a voice, let alone three voices that sound a lot like certain Artemis, Patrick and Mulch. You're lucky that it was me who found you here and not a Hun."

"We thought the Huns wouldn't want to watch the funeral from such distance," Artemis replied.

"Very likely they wouldn't, but you can't be careful enough," she said. "Is this camouflage foil big enough for me to join you under it? I can't shield with my magic gone."

"I thought you'd replenish it as soon as possible," Patrick commented.

"I will, but only after the funeral. The nearest oaks are a four-day walk away, and I didn't have that much time," Fiona explained as she slipped under the foil.

"So the funeral _is_ today," Patrick said, relieved.

"Yes, it is," the fairy sighed. "The mourners should be here soon with the triple coffin…"

Sensing the sadness emanating from her, Artemis reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder.

"No, it's okay, Artemis," she whispered. "I've come to terms with it. He died and cannot come back… I've accepted it. I just wanted to be here when he was laid to eternal rest."

"How many of the Huns will be here?"

"Not many. Only the archers, a few noblemen and Prince Csaba, as far as I know. Perhaps even Seer of Stars. By the way, how come you returned?"

"Ah, just Patrick… he was too curious to see the funeral," Artemis said, feeling rather awkward.

"Understandable," Fiona answered. "I too am curious to see it."

"Oh… All right, then," Artemis murmured. He had thought she wouldn't understand Patrick and would be mad at them for coming here to see the funeral like they would go to see a football match (not that Artemis would _ever_ go to see a football match, and not that Fiona actually _knew_ what football was…)

About an hour passed, and Mulch still did not return. Artemis was getting impatient when finally something caught his ears.

"The mourners," Fiona said.

In five minutes Artemis could make out the words that were mostly cries such as '_We're saying good-bye to you, Attila!'_

Soon the procession appeared. In the front walked hundreds of archers, followed by a carriage that was being hauled by twenty-four stallions. On the carriage lay the triple coffin, that from the outside looked bronze only, as the silver and golden coffins were hidden inside. Behind the carriage walked the kings of subjugated nations and several Hun noblemen. The five thousand slaves who had dug the grave brought up the rear.

The procession stopped by the grave, and an old Hun in the fine clothes of a nobleman stepped forward to Prince Csaba.

"Csaba," he said, "Let me lead the slaves. I am old enough, this is my last wish."

The prince reached out and squeezed the old man's hand. "So be it."

"What is he talking about?" Patrick whispered to Fiona.

"The slaves will be killed so that they wouldn't be able to tell anyone where Attila's resting. That old man – I'm sure you recognised him – is Seer of Stars. He volunteered to lead the slaves to the place where the archers will shoot them."

"But then… he'll die too, won't he?" Artemis breathed.

"He will." The fairy nodded. "That's why he emphasised that he's old already. He's lived long eno-"

She couldn't finish her sentence, because in the next instant a little figure ran towards them with a horrified expression. He was being followed by several Huns, who happened to be shooting arrows after him.

"Oh great," Artemis groaned. "He got himself into trouble."

"Come," Fiona said, her voice sounding very commander-like all of a sudden. "Into the forest! Before they notice us too!"

The three of them left the bush they had been hiding behind and hurried into the nearby woods. Mulch must have noticed at least one of their ankles poking out from under the cam foil, as he changed his course and hurried after them. Since the trio under the foil were running carefully to keep the foil on themselves, they couldn't run fast enough, and Mulch quickly caught up with them.

"What… the heck… was that… about?" Artemis panted.

"Sorry, Arty… I… ate something that didn't… allow me to tunnel… my way back to you, so I… had to run… and those Huns… noticed me, and… Oops!"

Mulch, in his effort to recount the story, accidentally trod on the hem of the cam foil that immediately fell off Artemis, Patrick and Fiona.

The Huns behind them let out a vicious holler that probably meant 'Hah! Today's a lucky day, three more to kill!'

The blood again froze in Artemis's veins as Patrick stumbled and collapsed. The boy wasn't supposed to be running in his present condition, and suddenly all his strength left him. Artemis dropped to his knees next to his son to scoop him up, and even Mulch doubled back to see if he could help, but before they could have done anything, Patrick's hand dived into his shirt and fished out a tiny object. "Hold onto me. All three of you," he gasped.

"What?"

"Just… do… it!" the boy snapped as another few arrows shot past them. Their pursuers were a mere forty meters behind, they would reach them in about ten seconds…

Artemis, Fiona and Mulch obliged. After all, Patrick was the genius in the family.

Another arrow swooped towards them just as the boy pressed a key on the tiny object in his hand.

The next instant Artemis had a feeling similar to the one he had when being transported through time, only a little different.

It felt like only a few seconds before the funny feeling stopped and the four of them landed on grass.

Gasping for breath, they looked around: there were no Huns. None at all. They were on a meadow, with barely any trees around.

"What have you done?" Mulch rasped.

"Used my transporter," Patrick muttered, sitting up.

"But it's not even completed!" Artemis snapped. "It could have… splinched us!"

"It was worth a try, wasn't it?" The boy smiled. "It saved our lives. Now all we have to do is find out _where_ we are…"

Suddenly, there was a groan. Artemis, his son and the dwarf looked in Fiona's direction.

The fairy was lying on her stomach, an arrow sticking out of her back. Apparently it had reached her a millisecond before the transporter had whisked them away from the forest.

"Fiona!" The three of them breathed and gathered around her.

They barely saw anything of her face, but the small portion they saw of it revealed that she was in great pain. "I'm… following… you… Attila…" she mumbled.

"No…" Artemis gasped and grasped her hand, but it was already limp.

She'd died.

And next to him, Patrick began to fade. "What…?" He released the dead fairy's hand to grab his son's, but his fingers grasped thin air. "No! PATRICK!"

The boy had disappeared as though he'd never been there. For a minute Artemis stared at the spot where his son had been sitting. His eyes were wide with shock, and his mouth hang open. He simply couldn't fathom it. Or could he?

Something felt strangely different in him. And not only the fact that he'd just seen his only son fade into nothingness… it was his _brains_.

He felt clever again.

A genius.

And that genius knew exactly what happened.

"He… died?" Mulch whispered, just as shocked as Artemis himself.

"No," the Irishman replied heavily. "He was never even born."

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N:** **this was possibly the longest chapter I've ever written. So please, be so kind and reward my work with a review!**

**Also, just letting you know that I opened a forum on ffnet – if you want to discuss GENERAL aspects of my fanfics, you may do it there (but _review_ you should _here_, not in the forum!;)**


	16. Pieces of a Jigsaw Puzzle

**A/N: review responses sent out, as usual.**

**Also thanks to: _TheWatcherandReader, SephirothVII, Mousewolf, Rebel Rose, Mockingbirdflyaway, lil-buddy, artemisfowl12, Aly, JediWeasley, refloc, hogwartscharmed1, UnSerious Sirius, the grass is always greener, SPG, aperfectattitude, angelmisaki, frenchpiment, Aytheria, blondevil, The Flying Moose, __DarkShur'tugal, hello, Queen Dragon, ebtwisty9, an-angel-in-hell, canadianscone, cokkii, LettuceNPudding, The OddBird, Oui, Emrisah, CarynG, Fleury, obsessed4life, jonathon skillman_**

**Chapter 16**

**Pieces of a Jigsaw Puzzle**

"What?" Mulch gasped. "What… what d'you mean by saying that he was… _never born_?"

"Think Mulch," Artemis said, his gaze never leaving the place where he'd last seen his son. "Fiona died. She died before she could have married Alexius Short. Before she could have produced an heir. Holly's father was never born. _Holly_ was never born… Patrick was never born either."

"D'Arvit," the dwarf breathed.

"_D'Arvit_?" Artemis suddenly lifted his glance from the empty spot where Patrick had disappeared. "Is that all you can say? Do you think that _sums it up_? Do you have an idea what I'm feeling right now?"

Mulch bit into his lower lip and shook his head.

_What do you know of losing someone you love? _– Fiona's words of not much earlier were echoing in Artemis's mind. Oh, he did, a lot. _Now_ he did. In a second, he had lost everyone he really loved. Then here was this annoying dwarf with a would-be remorseful expression, and Artemis felt like a geyser about to burst.

"Well, you should!" he snapped at his companion. "I feel totally _fucked-up_! I agreed to come back once more in time, just to screw up everything! I changed the history of a whole family, and who knows _what else_? I… I let them die… I caused the only people who meant anything to me to never be born! And _you_? What the bloody hell were you doing that made those wretched Huns chase after you, eh?"

Seeing anger as he had never seen on the always dignified Artemis Fowl's face, Mulch cringed. "I… I just… had a look at the triple coffin before it was closed…"

The Irishman's eyes narrowed, and in the late afternoon sunshine it seemed to Mulch as though they were glinting with hate. Only blue eyes could glint that cruelly…

"You were trying to steal something," Artemis concluded in an icy voice. "You swore not to get into trouble, and then you went and tried to steal something, setting a whole bunch of blood-thirsty Huns on us, and causing the Short family to die out!"

"Oh, so it's suddenly all my fault, eh?" Diggums stamped his foot. "It was _you_ who allowed little Pat to twist your arm and come back here, not me!"

"But everything would have gone all right if you hadn't tried to steal something as usual!" Artemis yelled back.

"Oh, and if you know me sooooo well, oh great Artemis, then why did you let me go and investigate, eh?"

"As if I could have stopped you when you wanted to go!"

For a moment they stared at each other, both of them out of breath, their faces red with anger. Then Artemis looked away. "Either way, it happened," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Be it your fault or mine, or both, it happened. And it's up to us to put it right."

"To… to put it right?"

"Go back in time and stop Fiona dying," came the dry reply.

"But… but… Arty…? Didn't you say one couldn't have two versions of themselves at the same time?"

"I did. And I still think it's almost impossible… but there might be a solution… I might be able to work something out and modify the time-machine to enable me to-"

"_Modify_ it? _Work something out_? Heeeeey, anybody home?" Mulch waved his hands before Artemis's face. "You're no genius any longer, Arty boy! Remember?"

With a patronising stare, Artemis stood up and dusted off his clothing. "You are gravely mistaken, Diggums. I'm a genius. _Again_."

A look of understanding flashed across the dwarf's face. "Oooooh. You never met Holly, never went to the Aztec pyramid and never lost your genius!"

Artemis nodded grimly.

"But then… how come you still remember her? How come _I _still remember her? How can we still remember everything that happened in… _that life_?"

"I don't know, Mulch, I've never been in an alternate universe before… And I doubt anyone ever has. I might write a book about it some day, it'll be an instant hit."

"And _what_ are we in _this life_, Arty?" Mulch frowned up on him.

"One way to find out," the young man replied. "I return to Ireland. You return to Haven. Then we meet and exchange information. But firstly, we need to bury her." He glanced down at Fiona's prone form, then looked meaningfully at Mulch.

The fairy rolled his eyes. "Always make the poor dwarf do the dirty work, eh? But sorry, Arty, I can't dig like I usually do."

"And may I ask why not?"

"I told you, I ate something that's… clogging up my system. Bad indigestion…"

"Then use that stone over there." Artemis pointed at a flat stone with fairly sharp edges, slightly bigger than a human's palm. It would make a perfect spade.

"And what if you actually helped me?" The dwarf asked, crossing his arms.

"I am helping… by _thinking_," Artemis said aloofly, and sat into the small shadow offered by the only bush around.

o o o O O O o o o

Artemis watched as Mulch dug a hole for the fairy's body and placed it into the hole. Whenever Mulch cast a side-ways glance at Artemis, he had the impression that the Mud Man wasn't really _watching_ the burial. In fact, Artemis was already far in thought, his brilliant mind weaving ideas of how to modify the time-machine and change everything back. One idea seemed more absurd than the other, and on each path of thought he ran into a dead-end. But there had to be a solution! There was nothing he, Artemis Fowl the Second couldn't figure out if he really tried! He was, once again, one of the three greatest genii on the face of Earth!

"Ready," the dwarf announced after he had smoothed the soil over the fairy's body.

"Oh." Artemis shook, awakening from a trance-like state. "Right. Let's go, then."

"Where? We don't even know where we are," Mulch reminded him.

"This place seems familiar to me. Reminds me of the meadow where we saw the first Hun, the one that had those nasty scars all over his face."

"And what if this is just a similar meadow, say, in Venezuela?"

"Out of the question." Artemis shook his head. "This is European continental vegetation. Those wild-flowers over there – they are only indigenous to the Carpathian Basin. We are very likely still in Pannonia."

"You know, I was sort of missing the Lexicon-Head Artemis…" Mulch grinned, but Artemis did not smile back – on the contrary: his face darkened.

"Even if the 'Lexicon-Head' Artemis came alive by a disaster?" he asked coldly. "Tell you what, I'd be happier with an average intelligence, but having my son at my side."

"Ah… sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"Then next time think before you talk. Or don't talk at all. And now, let's set our time-machines to one second past ten a.m., 16th July, 2016."

"As you wish, Boss," said Mulch half-heartedly.

o o o O O O o o o

_A hotel room in Szeged, half past ten a.m., 16th July, 2016_

"Won't the receptionists be asking questions when they see that only the two of us leave when three of us had arrived?" Mulch asked as they packed their belongings in their room.

"Receptionists aren't supposed to be asking such questions," Artemis said dryly. "And should they be asking about Patrick, we'll tell them that his uncle Gyula has come for him early in the morning to take him to Balaton."

"Balaton?"

"Hungary's biggest lake. Actually, the biggest lake in central Europe. Most Hungarians spend a few weeks there over the summer. People from the onetime DDR love spending their holidays there too."

"DDR?"

"Deutsche Demokratische Republik," said Artemis, closing his suitcase.

"So, our Pat is currently swimming in Lake Balaton with Uncle G… Uncle what?"

"Never mind." Artemis rolled his eyes. "Come on, the train's leaving in half an hour."

"I hope you booked an Intercity this time! The one that we took the last time was horrible!"

Artemis sent the dwarf a chilling glance that gave Mulch the feeling that his insides had frozen.

"Okay, I don't really mind what kind of train we take," Mulch added quickly, but Artemis had already turned his back on him and headed for the door.

For some reason, Mulch didn't like the new Artemis. The _old_ Artemis, to be exact. This Artemis seemed just as cold as the one that had kidnapped Holly so many years earlier, and Mulch had grown fond of the 'warmer and nicer' Artemis. He wasn't sure he could get used to the cold genius again. If only Arty could change things back…

o o o O O O o o o

Five hours later they were on the plane to Dublin.

As he looked out the window at the clouds floating by, Artemis had the feeling as though it had been months or even years ago when he, Patrick and Mulch had flown to Hungary. And, in reality, it had been only yesterday. He might have spent over a week in the fifth century, but truth was that he had only arrived at Hungary the day before and now he was going home to Ireland. Home… but to what kind of life? He didn't even know what sort of life he had led in _this _life… he only knew that it was a life without Holly and Patrick. And that in itself was a daunting prospect.

He got drowsier and drowsier by the minute, and before he knew, he was dozing in his seat. He didn't know how long he had been asleep, but he awoke to being poked by Mulch.

"What?" he grunted at the dwarf.

"I had to wake you, you were having a nightmare, Arty."

"A nightmare?" Artemis frowned, trying to remember.

"Yeah, it must have been something nasty. You were muttering about some padded cell and someone called Delylah. You sounded as though you were suffering, so I thought better to wake you."

"Oh, right." Artemis nodded. _Padded cell? Delylah_? His mind was reeling, desperate to remember his dream, as he was sure it was important. Perhaps his dream had carried information about his current life, the life that he didn't yet know. And then, the first memory came. "My mother…" he muttered. "She's insane. She's in a lunatic ward and doesn't recognise me."

"Is this… something from this life?" Mulch asked.

"I believe so…" Artemis pressed his fingers on his temples, gently massaging them. His eyes were closed, and anyone could have told he was concentrating on something. "My father… he's dead. He disappeared in Russia and never turned up… I got the message from the Russian mafia demanding money… but I never managed to free him…"

When he opened his eyes, it seemed to Mulch that they were watering.

"I'm sorry old chum," the dwarf said compassionately.

Artemis shook his head, blinking back his tears. "No, it's okay. I will change it back. Father's alive and Mother's sane. At least that's how it will be again." He shot his companion a serious glance. "I'll bring them back, if that's the last thing I do."

"Okay, okay, no need to make such deadly promises." Mulch patted Artemis on the arm. "Any other things you remember?"

For a few seconds Artemis stared at the back of the seat in front of him, then shook his head. "None. I can't remember anything else. Perhaps I will, later. Perhaps memories of this life will come to me in several pieces, like in a jigsaw puzzle. I simply need to be patient and I'll remember them all."

"Aren't you afraid that it might addle your brain to have memories of two different lives?" Mulch knitted his eyebrows. "Come to think of it, it might addle _my _brain too…"

"Why, do you remember anything of your current life?" Artemis asked.

"Not really… for a few seconds I thought I saw images in my head about myself being in a prison – in a prison where I surely haven't been in my 'normal' life - but I might as easily have imagined it."

"Perhaps you too need to fall asleep and dream to remember things," the Irishman mused. "Are you sure I was muttering about a Delylah?"

"Positive, Arty."

"I don't know who she is…"

"Probably your girlfriend." Mulch winked.

"I doubt I have a girlfriend in a life where I haven't met Holly," Artemis said heavily, glancing out at the sky again. "Without Holly's involvement, I must be still the same monster I was before I knew her… a monster without emotions. And emotionless creatures like that don't have girlfriends."

"Oh, yes, they do. If for nothing else, then for showing them off at parties," Mulch replied.

"Well… you're right," Artemis said hesitantly. "But I doubt that I would go to parties in _any_ life."

The image of himself strutting around in a ballroom wearing a tuxedo, with a very blonde girl in a pink, frilly dress at his side, was most disturbing. He seriously hoped he didn't have a girlfriend.

o o o O O O o o o

At the Dublin airport, Artemis said good-bye to Mulch. "Meet you in two days at Fowl Manor. At midnight, in the vine cellar. I hope it's in the same condition in this life like in the other and then you can come through its floor without any trouble."

"Couldn't I just come through the back door?" the dwarf suggested.

"We can't risk it. Remember, we don't know what we are facing. I don't yet know what kind of a Fowl Manor I'm returning to. It might be the same as the one I knew, but it might have been rebuilt or we might even have a squad of guards around the house."

"No squad is needed if old Butler's there," the dwarf remarked.

Artemis heaved a sigh. "I can't be sure that Butler's there at all."

"Is that why you want to take a taxi?"

"Yes. I can't try and phone Butler, as he might have a different phone number in this life… or none at all. We might even have sold the Bentley…"

"All right, then, see you in two days' time." Mulch nodded and watched as Artemis walked with his small suitcase towards the taxi park place.

o o o O O O o o o

The drive from the airport to Fowl Manor seemed to take longer than usual, perhaps because Artemis was too excited to see what was awaiting him there. He was excited, but afraid at the same time. He knew he was going back to a house where _he_ was the only Fowl: his father was dead and his mother was in a lunatic asylum, after all.

He closed his eyes, trying to remember those images about Angeline in the padded cell, and he caught himself on the verge of tears. His mother had looked so pathetic, her usually glorious dark brown hair matted and hanging scruffily onto her shoulders. And her eyes… those beautiful, serene eyes were empty, expressionless…

"_Who are you?"_

"_It's me, Mother. Your son, Artemis."_

"_Artemis? Isn't that the god of archery? No, you can't be my son. I would never be foolish enough to name a boy after a goddess… But… but you do look familiar to me, you know…"_

"_Perhaps because I visit you every week. I bring you those pretty, colourful newspapers you so much like looking at."_

"_Ooooh… the paper-boy! Yes, I remember you!"_ _Angeline replied with a delighted, childish smile on her face. _

A smile that tore at Artemis's heart.

He opened his eyes and blinked back a tear that threatened to run down his right cheek.

"All right, sir?" the taxi driver asked over his shoulder. "You look very pale."

"Yes, I'm fine. Just the heat, I suppose," Artemis replied.

"Yeah, horrible, isn't it? I don't remember when we last had thirty Celsius!" The driver nodded. "Not even the air-conditioning can do much about this heat, can it?"

"No, apparently it can't."

They spent the rest of the journey in silence.

As the taxi stopped before the front door of the manor, Artemis felt some kind of a relief. The house looked exactly the same as he remembered. It didn't seem to have been rebuilt, at least not on the outside.

He paid the driver, and as the taxi left, Artemis had the feeling that someone was watching him. He looked up, and saw a pale face in a window on the first floor, peeking out from behind a curtain. As the person realised that Artemis had seen them, they let the curtain fall back into place and disappeared into the darkness of the room. In fact the room wasn't dark, but the sun was shining from behind the manor, forcing Artemis to squint. Against the bright sunshine, he hadn't managed to make out the features of the person who'd glanced down at him, but it seemed to him that it was a short someone with dark blue eyes. But of course, he might have been mistaken.

His heart hammering in his throat, Artemis entered the house. Funny, he told himself, he had never been nervous about entering his own house before.

The entrance hall looked the same as ever, except that it wasn't repainted because there had been no troll-attack to make a renovation necessary.

To the left, the kitchen door stood open, and Artemis entered, careful to notice all little details that might suggest that things were different from what he was used to.

The kitchen looked a bit too tidy – much cleaner and more organised than he'd ever seen it before. As if nobody had cooked in here for quite a while. Or was Juliet a much tidier person in this life? – he wondered.

And then suddenly, something hit him. A tide of pictures flooded his brain, making him dizzy.

He needed to sit down and dropped himself into a chair at the head of the table, propping his face in his palms. He forced his eyes shut, hoping that if he didn't look, then at least the kitchen wouldn't seem to be swirling so fast…

But even with eyes shut, he felt swirling, and so did the hundreds of new bits of memories in his mind.

Piece by piece, they fell into place, and the jigsaw puzzle was starting to take a shape.

_Juliet_. He had first thought of Juliet.

In this life, Juliet hadn't cooked in this kitchen for several years. She had left to the States to be a wrestler and hadn't returned ever since. _When had she left?_

_Eight years_, a voice inside Artemis head replied. She left shortly after Domovoi…

As if stung by a bee, Artemis looked up, frozen with terror. Juliet left after… after Butler had died.

_How? Why?_

Try as he might, he didn't remember. His old friend had died eight years ago, and he didn't even know what had killed him. Had he died protecting him like in the C Cube incident? Had some kind of an illness finished him off?

He didn't know. All he knew was that he was crying at last. And he didn't even want to hold back. Hot tears spilled down his cheeks for a friend who, perhaps, wasn't even as good a friend in this life.

_How can you think of such a thing?_ – an accusatory voice shrieked inside his head. _Butler always was and would always be your best friend, no matter in which life!_

Running his fingers across his black hair, Artemis exhaled. _Yes. Butler was always my best friend. And I need to remember why he died in this life!_

_You shouldn't care!_ – another voice in his mind snapped. – _This life isn't real! You're going to change it back anyway, so why bother? Why grieve over a death that never happened?_

_But what if… what if I can't change it back? – _a weak, trembling voice replied, and Artemis knew it to be the voice of his conscience_. What if I overestimated my talents? I might be a genius again, but even genii have their limits! If I can't change things back, then… then this is the life I'll be stuck in… In a life where my father and Butler are dead and my mother's mad. What else can this life have in store for me?_

As though answering Artemis's last question, a female voice called out: "Artemis? Artemis, is that you?"

He didn't know this voice. All he knew was that it gave him the creeps. It was a voice colder than Opal Koboi's. It was an alto, a little raspy too… unpleasant, to say the least.

Who was this woman? And what was she doing here?

Quickly wiping his tears, Artemis stood up and walked out of the kitchen into the entrance hall.

A slim woman in a body-length, black dress was walking down the stairs, elegantly slipping her long-fingered hand down the carved railing.

Waist-length, black hair framed her pale, oval face. Huge, dark and heavily lidded eyes shone down at Artemis, and the woman's dark red lips were tucked into a theatrical, fake smile.

This is about how the child Artemis had imagined the Queen from Snow White. Dark, dazzling, and deadly.

"Ah, it's really you. At last! I was beginning to think you'd never come home from Switzerland," she said in a would-be interested voice, but Artemis could tell that she didn't really care.

At this moment an icy hand clutched at Artemis's guts as another torrent of memories assaulted him.

_Bullets showering towards him, Butler jerking him to the side, taking at least six bullets at once…_

_Himself seeing Butler collapse under a palm tree, dead on the spot…_

_Himself being held by two gorillas in a courtyard overgrown with palm trees… the place must have been somewhere in the Middle-East. _

"_We've got him, sir!" one of the gorillas shouted to someone whom Artemis didn't see. "Shall we kill him, sir?"_

_A small, balding man with an unpleasant smile appeared. "A petty gunrunner, just like the rest. Yes, definitely, kill him."_

"_Petty, sir? He's been smuggling weapons into the country for years, and tons of them! He's been taking our customers from us!" one of the musclemen said. _

_The balding man shrugged. "That's why I said to kill him…"_

_Artemis felt his knees weaken, and he would have fallen if the two gorillas hadn't been holding him up. Then suddenly they threw him rudely to the ground. He landed in the dirt, coughing as the stirred-up sand got into his lungs. He wasn't even able to sit up – both because his hands were tied behind his back and because he felt that all his strength had left him._

_Through half-closed eyelids he saw the two musclemen point their guns at him to fire, when a voice tore at the air:_

"_Stop!"_

_It was a female voice. Cold, low and a bit raspy, but to Artemis's ears it was the most beautiful music. _

"_Delylah? What are you doing out here? This isn't something you should be watching!" The balding man told someone whom Artemis, on the brink of fainting, couldn't see._

"_You mean I shouldn't watch as your men execute your competition, Father?" the female replied sarcastically. _

"_Now, Delylah…"_

"_I don't want him to die," she said firmly._

"_But he's a rival! You know that business is business, and-"_

"_I – don't – care!" the woman hissed. "And anyway, if he stopped gunrunning, he wouldn't be any harm to you anymore…"_

"_What are you driving at, Daughter?"_

"_I like him. He's cute. Not to mention that he's rich. I could find a use for him if you kept him alive…"_

Artemis's glance shifted to the woman's hand that was resting on the railing. She was wearing a ring. The very ring that Artemis's mother had worn before she got taken to the asylum. And on her other hand shone a wedding band.

"Cat got your tongue?" Delylah cocked her head, the cold smile still on her lips.

Artemis tried to say 'no', but his vocal cords had failed him. His eyes automatically shifted back to her left hand to confirm that he had seen it well. But there was no doubt.

This woman was his wife.

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N:** yeah, this was short. The next one is longer and very evil.

**Review, please!**


	17. A Life Without Holly

**A/N: I MUST WARN YOU THAT THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SOME 'STRONG T-RATED' MATERIAL (hints at non-consensual sex, though NO descriptions). I'm sure it doesn't reach M-rating, but better be safe – don't say I didn't warn you.**

**Review replies sent out as usual.**

**Also thanks to: _aperfectattitude, Mousewolf, Zodokai, septempopuli, Mistri, Tonks' Admirer, hello, JediWeasley, Soccer101, SPG, Rebel Rose, TheWatcherandReader, theGRASSisALWAYSgreener, an-angel-in-hell, AnnieThePipster, LettuceNPudding, Queen Dragon, The Flying Moose, Lady Emerald Black, J. Dawnwolf, Fleury, Brian, The OddBird, Emrisah, artemisfowl12, Koru-chan, comwizz2_**

**Oh, and thanks to The White Lily for recommending my AF duology on Criminality. I was most pleased when the admins contacted me for permission to archieve The Aztec Incident and this fic on their site :)**

**Chapter 17**

**A Life Without Holly**

"Cat got your tongue?"

"N…no," Artemis replied, trying to sound as confident as possible. No need to let Delylah believe he had all of a sudden lost a hundred IQ points. In this life, after all, he was a genius. He didn't yet know what kind of things he had accomplished as a genius, he didn't know whether he had invented things and gained Nobel prizes like in his other life, but still, he had to act the genius. "It's nice to back," he said.

"Did the negotiations go well?" she asked.

"Yes, quite satisfactory." Artemis nodded, wondering what kind of a negotiation he had been at. Hopefully he would remember it soon.

"Arty!" the woman turned away from him, shouting upstairs, "Arty come and greet your father!"

_Father?_ – Artemis blinked, but quickly forced his features not to show his surprise. Well, why not? If he was a married man, he shouldn't be surprised that he had a child as well…

Soon he heard steps and a short, very thin boy of about seven-eight years appeared on the top of the staircase. Slowly he descended the stairs, and the closer he came, the clearer Artemis saw the contempt in his eyes. The boy was pouting, his nose wrinkled in an aristocratically stuck-up manner, and his deep blue eyes were narrowed. It didn't take a genius to realise that this boy loathed his father.

"Hello, Son," Artemis forced himself to sound nonchalant and even tried to muster a small smile.

"Father." The boy nodded. "How has your journey to Switzerland been?"

"Pleasant, thank you."

"Good," the boy – obviously Artemis Fowl the Third – said impassively, then turned to his mother. "May I go now?"

"Of course, dear." The woman gently ruffled the boy's raven black hair and pressed a kiss on his cheek.

Without a second glance at his father, the child turned on his heels and hurried upstairs. It seemed to Artemis as though his 'son' had been wiping his cheek after he turned away from Delylah. Apparently the boy hated public display of affection just as much as his 'father' did.

"Well, I'm a bit tired. I'll go up to…" Artemis began, then suddenly realised that he didn't know whether he had a room of his own or he shared one with his so-called wife.

"Go on, dear, I'll let you rest for a couple of hours. Arty and I are going shopping anyway." Delylah smiled at him. He couldn't help but feel repulsed by her smile. It was a smile too sweet, sickeningly sweet, yet there was some hidden bitterness in it that most people wouldn't have seen but Artemis spotted it easily.

Heaving his suitcase again, Artemis headed upstairs, hoping that his room was still the same one he had always owned and that it didn't have a special sealing mechanism for which he would need to remember a code.

To his relief he found that the door of his room opened like any normal door; and upon entering, he found it draped with all navy and brown: the colours his room had had been before Holly decided to change the draperies to yellow and lime green.

He quickly looked into the wardrobe to find only his suits hanging in there – apparently his wife had a room of her own as no female clothes were to be seen around. The room didn't seem to have a 'woman's touch' to it at all, and even though Artemis had been shocked when Holly reorganised his/their room, now he couldn't help but miss the cheery yellows and greens. Those colours had reflected Holly's personality: her vivacious, youthful nature; but this room here was decorated for the 'old Artemis': the cold, calculating, lonely man. Apparently Delylah wasn't the type to change the decorations according to her taste; she seemed too cold to want to make the house look warmer.

Artemis dropped himself on the bed and suddenly felt more tired than ever. Having landed in a completely different life was a bit too much for him. No Holly, no Patrick, no parents, no Butlers, but a frigid-looking wife and a downright unsympathetic son.

The way that boy had looked at him… the utter contempt in those otherwise beautiful blue eyes… Artemis simply couldn't get his 'son' out of his mind.

_Why does he hate me?_ – he wondered, lying down still fully-clothed and massaging his temples. _Why?_

_As an answer, a picture appeared in his mind. A boy, probably two years younger than current Artemis the Third, was sitting at a table, deeply immersed in reading a book. The child's forehead was creased with concentration, and he was biting his lower lip. Anyone could have told he was confused and frustrated._

"_Why are you reading my metaphysics book again?" Artemis sighed, stepping to his son to peer at the book over his shoulder._

_The boy glanced up at him, a defiant look on his face. "I read whatever I feel like reading!"_

"_But what's the point in reading something you don't understand?"_

"_I do understand it!" the boy snapped._

"_Do you? Then tell me, what did F. Roy Dean Schlippe's seventh law mean?"_

"_I haven't yet read that one," Artemis the Third said sharply._

_His father shook his head. "You're on page 154. The ten rules were mentioned on page eleven, in the first chapter, so you must have read it. And the first chapter was the most easy to understand part."_

_Something seemed to have snapped in the child, as he suddenly banged the book on the desk and jumped to his feet. "Do you always have to rub it in? Do you?"_

"_I just don't want you to overexert yourself mentally," Artemis said in what he believed to be a benign voice._

"_**Overexert myself**?" The boy's eyes were gleaming with fury. "Why not tell me outright that I'm not clever enough to understand your bloody book? Why not tell me that I'm not good enough to be a genius's son? Why?"_

_Before Artemis could have answered, little Arty was out of the room and he stood there, dumbstruck._

So that's why his son hated him. Because he wanted to be a genius like his father but wasn't. The boy blamed his father for not having passed his genius genes down to him.

Artemis wasn't a bit surprised that the boy wasn't a genius. After all, most genii had clever, but not genius children. Patrick being a genius could only be thanked to Foaly's gene manipulation. The centaur had made sure that little Pat would inherit the right genes from his father; but this boy here must have been conceived the traditional way, and with traditional conception there was no chance of making sure the child would get the genes that made his father a genius.

Artemis wondered if he had ever tried to have a normal father-to-son discussion with 'Arty' in which he explained the boy all about genetics. Probably he hadn't even cared to try. And if he hadn't, then it was no wonder that the boy hated him: after all, he was a father who would always be better than him. A father who would always be set as an example to him but whose accomplishments would always be out of reach for him. A father, compared to whom he'd always be second-class.

As he thought it over, Artemis realised that he hadn't exactly been diplomatic, asking the boy about Schlippe's seventh law. Anyone who knew a bit about children would have been more tactful; but in this life, Artemis obviously didn't know a thing about children, and he had absolutely no idea how to treat a six-year-old without hurting his feelings. He wondered if Delylah had ever reprimanded him for being such a careless and tactless father. Perhaps she hadn't. She herself didn't seem like a full-of-heart person, and Artemis presumed that she kept their son like a puppet: took him to various meetings to show him off but never sat down at the boy's bedside to read him a goodnight story. Not like Holly…

A sudden smile came to Artemis's face as he remembered a discussion with his son Patrick in the Hun camp. It had been the day after Patrick had been stabbed: they were sharing childhood memories with each other. Patrick told him how Holly had used to sit by his bedside, reading him Harry Potter and Winnie the Pooh.

Despite being tomboyish, Holly was the ideal mother, no doubt about that. The ideal mother, and the perfect wife… How on Earth had he ended up with this woman in this life? – Artemis thought bitterly.

Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the scene he had seen upon first spotting Delylah. The scene about the middle-East country, Butler's death and himself being at the mercy of some gunrunner.

_I was a gunrunner too_, he realised. _I was smuggling weapons into… into… which country again? Syria? Israel? Jordan? Lebanon?_ He didn't remember.

Slowly more and more images came to him, filling the gaps in the story. At age eighteen he had decided that real money lay in selling weapons to certain military groups in the Middle-East. He had even gone there to seal a contract – Butler had tried to dissuade him of course but he hadn't listened – and he got captured by a rival gunrunner.

_What was I thinking?_ – he asked himself. _Selling weapons, for heaven's sake! Who sells weapons, contributes to the death of hundreds, thousands, even millions! And it cost Butler his life! **I** killed him! **I **killed him with my greed! How could I?_

Guilt, such as he had never felt before, surged through Artemis. He knew this wasn't reality, not _his_ reality anyway, but still… he had done it. If he had never met Holly, this is where he would have ended up: being a real criminal, the cause of several innocent people's death… and all that for money. Only monsters did such things… and in this life, he was a monster. The Artemis who had never met the fairies turned into a person completely devoid of inhibitions. A person who bulldozed over anything and anyone to get what he wanted… only to end up as the puppet of a gangster's daughter. After all, that's what he was – wasn't he?

_Why did I agree to marry her in the first place? To save my life all right, but… why didn't I simply get divorced later?_

His head again filled with new images.

_He was in a room, his hands still tied behind his back, but he was at least sitting on a chair. The room had two doors, a small bed and one tiny window that looked over a dirty marketplace. Under normal circumstances Artemis wouldn't have wasted a glance at a marketplace like that, but in his current condition, he found it beautiful and exciting. As his life still hung in the balance, he didn't know whether this marketplace would be the last colourful thing he saw before someone came and shot him, so he tried to make the most of it. He even stood up, and as clumsily as he could with only using his legs, he pushed the chair closer to the window in the hope of feeling a bit of wind. But there was none and the heat was unbearable. _

_Staring outside, Artemis finally let himself think things over. Butler had died mere hours earlier, and it had been **his** fault. If he were sure he would be allowed to live, he would let himself shed a few tears, but with the prospect of having to follow his old manservant any minute, he forced himself not to cry. _

_Hours passed, and Artemis's fine linen suit got soaked with sweat. He longed for a cool shower or just a handkerchief to wipe his beading forehead, but he was given nothing but solitude. _

_He must have spent at least seven or eight hours in the dark, smelly little room when finally he heard steps. It was already dusk outside, but just as hot as it had been at noon._

_The door of his room opened and someone switched on the light, then closed the door. For a few seconds, Artemis blinked against the sudden brightness, but as his vision cleared, he saw a woman of unearthly beauty. Still, it wasn't a beauty that would excite him or make him all fluttery inside… it was an ice-queen sort of beauty that made a shiver run down his spine._

"_Here, I've brought you something to eat and drink," she said in a raspy voice._

_Artemis immediately recognised the voice. "It was you," he said. "The one who told them to stop."_

_She nodded. "Yeah. You can thank me for keeping you alive."_

"_Well, thank you," Artemis replied coldly. "But I presume you did it for something in return… I think I heard you saying that you could use me, but I'm not sure… I was close to fainting, I might as easily have imagined it."_

"_No, you did not," she said, and suddenly something sharp glinted in her hand._

_Artemis jerked back, seeing that it was a knife._

"_Oh, come on, do you think I saved you then, to kill you now?" She rolled her eyes and he perceived that her eyes were heavily pencilled and she wore dark purple eye-shadow. The eye-shadow and the pencil enhanced her black eyes to look enormous and mesmerising, like a pair of deep, dark pools. With the mascara she looked older than she really was – Artemis assumed that she must have been three-four years older than him, but the mascara made her look at least twenty-seven. "I'm just trying to cut your binds."_

"_Cut my binds?" Artemis echoed her words._

"_Why, do you want me to feed you like a baby?" she asked with an amused stare._

"_No. Of course not."_

"_Then stand still and let me cut them."_

"_Aren't you a bit afraid that I might attack you if you undo my binds?"_

_The woman let out a short, shrill laugh. "Attack me? There are four heavily armed guards standing outside, and as soon as they hear something suspicious, they will burst in on us and shoot you."_

"_Oh."_

"_Yes, oh. And now, tuck in."_

_The woman sat down on the small bed and watched as he ate. He didn't eat much but drank a lot, as in heat most people don't really feel hungry._

"_Finished," Artemis announced five minutes later. "Are you going to bind me now?"_

"_No, not yet," she said with a secretive smile that, instead of giving Artemis heart, made him feel as though a bucketful of ice had been spilled into his stomach. "First I want to test you, and for that test, you'll be needing your hands, Artemis."_

"_So you know my name. But I don't know yours. Or… wait, I think I remember… Delylah, right? It was your father who wanted to have me killed, and he named you Delylah."_

"_Right, genius boy." She smiled, just as coldly as ever._

_Artemis arched an eyebrow at her. "So you know I'm a genius?"_

"_Everybody knows that. You're famous, after all… But I believe someone like you should be famous for other things than smuggling weaponry. Like… inventing things and winning science awards… to make your wife proud."_

"_I'm not married," Artemis said. "And I **have** been inventing things… I just never showed them to anyone."_

"_Well, you should. You could make money of that instead of taking my father's customers."_

"_Aha, so that's what you want of me: to swear that I'll stop gunrunning. But you don't need to worry, I have decided to stop it – if I get out of here alive, that is."_

"_It all depends on you," she said with a furtive, challenging smile._

"_You mean the test, right? What kind of a test is it?"_

"_First you need to get clean," she said, standing up from the bed and walking to one of the doors – not the one she had entered through, but the other one. She fished a key out of her dress pocket and opened the door with it. "In here," she instructed Artemis._

_The Irishman stood up from his chair and peered into the adjacent room to see that it was some kind of a bathroom. "Wonderful, I was feeling all grimy," he muttered and entered, but doubled back in the doorframe. "Am I getting clean clothes as well?"_

"_You won't be needing those for a while," she replied with a smirk._

_Not knowing what to make of her smirk, he shut the door behind him and started to undress in the hope that she'd get him something clean to wear by the time he's finished with his bath._

_However, time passed, and no matter how hard Artemis listened, he didn't hear the door creak that would signal that someone was bringing him something to wear. After having soaked for about twenty minutes, Artemis dried himself in the only towel he found (a rather small one that barely reached around his waist) and exited the bathroom._

"_Er… I was hoping for some clean clothes, you know," he told Delylah who was still sitting on the bed, looking rather contented._

"_And I told you that you wouldn't be needing those for a while," she replied in a patronising voice that suggested that she was talking to a three-year-old, not a genius._

_Artemis knitted his eyebrows. "I thought you meant that I wouldn't be needing clothes as long as I'm taking a bath. But I'm finished with that."_

"_I see." She nodded but didn't budge._

"_When am I getting clean clothes?" he demanded, getting more and more nervous about having to hold the tiny towel that would surely fall off if he let go of it for a single second. _

"_You'll be getting some, once you've passed the test. **If **you pass it, that is," she replied, her lips again tucking into a smirk. _

"_And if I don't?"_

"_Then you can get your old, dirty and sweaty clothes back, and you'll be shot, genius boy. And just to remind you: you're the prisoner here, and I'm the mistress. You don't have a right to demand things of me. I could have left you without food and drink for days if I wanted to. I could have let you die. You're at my mercy, Artemis. Keep that in mind and behave accordingly."_

_The Irishman gulped. He didn't remember ever having been talked to in such a fashion. It was usually him who talked down to people. It was usually him who had others at his mercy. He didn't like the sudden change of things. Not a bit._

"_Right, Mistress," he said heavily. "So, what's the test I need to pass?"_

"_Sex," she replied simply._

"_Excuse me?" Artemis blinked._

"_I told you: sex."_

"_What? Right now? Here?"_

"_Why did you think I told you that you wouldn't be needing your clothes?" she asked, rolling her eyes._

"_But… but…"_

"_Stop gaping like a fish, it doesn't suit you. Come." She extended her hand, beckoning him to the bed she was sitting on._

"_I can't believe this…" Artemis muttered._

"_You don't need to believe it, just come," she said, more firmly this time._

"_But… what about the guards outside?" he tried to reason. "You said they'd be bursting in on us if they hear something… suspicious. And no doubt they'd be hearing something if we…"_

"_Don't worry about that, the guards know I like sex and they fear my father too much to try and disturb me when I'm having fun."_

_The world was reeling around Artemis. What had he got himself into? Butler dead, he's exposed to the whims of a nympho and if he didn't perform, he'd be killed. And what if he did perform, and still got killed? What if this woman only wanted him for a little fun and then she'd throw him away, let him be killed? If he got killed either way, then why obey her at all?_

"_What do you expect of me?" he asked darkly. "You'll get me killed either way, so why should I pleasure you before I die? No, Lady, Artemis Fowl the Second isn't your puppet to play with."_

"_Is he not?" She arched an eyebrow at him with a sarcastic smile. "I doubt that. And who told you that I'd get you killed either way?"_

"_It's only logical," he hissed._

"_Then your logic's getting faulty, genius boy," she said, standing up. "No, I won't have you killed either way. If you manage to please me, even if just a little bit, you get to stay alive, and I will find another way for you to serve me. Another way for you to… show your gratitude that I let you live."_

_Artemis shuddered, and instinctively wrapped his arms around his shivering body. At the moment he released the towel, it slipped to the ground, and even though he ducked after it and quickly fastened it around himself again, that single second of his involuntary exhibitionism had been enough for Delylah to start grinning like a Cheshire cat._

_Feeling his face turn ruby red, Artemis looked away. "What are you planning to do with me if I… pass your test?"_

"_Well…" She walked up to him, winding her arms around his neck, "I've had enough of this climate. Too hot, you know… For years I've been dreaming about moving to the north… Ireland would be an ideal place for me to settle down…" She inched closer, brushing her lips against his. "You could take me there…"_

_Trying not to think, trying to close all disturbing thoughts out of his mind and concentrate on surviving, Artemis let her steer him to the bed and push him gently down on it. _

_With a few deliberate tugs she got rid of her clothes, and Artemis couldn't help but gulp and look away, blushing even more._

"_Ooooh… I see now," she whispered, running a finger along his left cheek, down the side of his neck. "You're a virgin. How cute…"_

_Artemis chanced a glance at her and forced himself not to turn his eyes away. "Cute? I doubt that, madam. At eighteen lots of young men are still virgins. I don't think there's anything cute about it."_

"_But there **is **something cute about** you,**" she said in a husky voice, her hand continuing its travel down his chest to his waistline. With a quick tug she pulled his towel off and tossed it aside. "I like you, Artemis Fowl. And if you value your life a bit, then you do everything in your power to please me now." She bent down and caught his lips in a kiss, and the tear he had held back when thinking of Butler's death finally found its way down his cheek._

_Hours later Artemis woke to see a man looking down at him. He instinctively reached out for the covers to jerk them over his naked chest._

"_Well, awake at last, I see," the man said in a chit-chatty voice. Artemis recognised him as the rival gunrunner – Delylah's father. Delylah herself was nowhere to be seen._

_Artemis gathered his courage to speak up. "Did she send you to tell me that she wants me dead, eventually?"_

"_No." The balding man shook his head. "Quite the contrary. And actually, she didn't even send me – I came because I wanted to talk to you."_

"_Talk to me? What about?" Artemis grunted, sitting up. He had never felt so embarrassed before: naked under the blanket, and conversing with the father of the girl he'd just shagged. And to cap it all, the father of the shagged girl seemed downright cheerful. Perhaps he didn't know what had taken place here between him and Delylah?_

"_About my daughter," the man said. "She came to me about an hour ago and told me something that appalled me, to say the least."_

_**I doubt it appalled you to hear that she slept with me**, Artemis thought bitterly. That woman must have slept with dozens of men, she seemed to be very experienced… However, politeness required that Artemis ask: "What appalled you, sir?"_

"_My daughter told me she loved you."_

"_WHAT?" Artemis gasped. _

"_I know, I know, I was just as shocked as you are, and I couldn't believe it either." The gangster waved. "But my daughter looked serious. In her own weird… well**, perverted** way, she does love you. It was a… what'd you call it? Love at first sight?"_

"_That's insane." Artemis shook his head. "She doesn't love me, you can be sure of it, sir. And what if she does? Does that change anything? Does that mean you're going to release me?"_

"_Yes, under one condition, Mr Fowl."_

"_And what is that?" Artemis demanded._

"_You marry her."_

"_I… what?"_

"_Marry her. Here, in this very city. It's going to be a small ceremony, but valid, even in Ireland. After the wedding, you will be released and free to return to your home, with your new wife," Delylah's father explained in a voice that suggested he thought that a forced marriage was the most natural thing in the world. "You're going to be a good and caring husband to her. Because if not…"_

"_If not?" Artemis's eyes narrowed. He didn't like conditions. He'd never liked them. Conditions always meant that something unpleasant was about to come._

"_Well, my young friend, you must know that I'm a powerful man. And not only in the Middle-East. I have friends in Ireland too. In the Irish police and jurisdiction. Should my daughter be… unsatisfied with you, should I hear a single world of complaint from her, you will be on your way to the nearest prison, facing a trial for gunrunning. And don't even dream of denouncing me to the police, because you can't prove I've ever put a toe out of line. You might be a genius, sonny, but you're not nearly as powerful as I am. I have connections everywhere, and all I need to do is make a phone call. So behave, young Artemis, and you shall live. You will be a married man with a slightly… whimsical wife, but you'll be alive and grateful for it." _

_Artemis opened his mouth to say something, but the man waved to silence him. "Before you ask, I do not intend to put my hands on your money. I'm richer than you could ever hope to be. All I want of you is to make my only daughter happy. It isn't that much of a request, is it?"_

_Though somewhat reluctantly, Artemis shook his head. _

"_Good. I'll have a servant bring you some clothes. A tuxedo, for example… I'll ring the local registrar, and if you have your papers with you, we could have the ceremony over with in two or three hours. Until then, good-bye, Mr Fowl."_

_The balding man exited the room, leaving Artemis alone with his thoughts… alone with his despair. He couldn't believe what this man was expecting of him! To marry that… that… nymphomaniac witch! To be her puppy for the rest of his life!_

_He had never felt so humiliated before. And yet, he couldn't refuse. If he wanted to survive, he had to obey. Artemis Fowl, humble servant and henpecked husband of a gangster's daughter. Ridiculous!_

_But after all, he was a genius. He might work out something later – something to get rid of Delylah in a way that wouldn't risk his health and wealth…_

_Half an hour later he put on the tuxedo brought to him and let a gorilla lead him downstairs, where Delylah was waiting for him, wearing a simple white dress and a radiant smile. When she smiled like this, she wasn't even **that **repulsive…_

And still, Artemis couldn't believe that he had been married to this woman for eight years now. Why hadn't he got divorced? With his immense intelligence, he surely would have been able to find a way to free himself of this unwanted marriage… He would have found a way to make Delylah get bored of him but not make Father-in-law mad at him at the same time… So why hadn't he done something? Or had he done something that didn't work out?

"_I'm leaving!" Juliet announced, her face red with fury._

"_What?" Artemis asked. "But why?"_

"_Why? Are you asking me WHY?" she bellowed at him. "Your precious wife is driving me crazy, that's why! No matter what I do, nothing, I repeat, nothing is good enough for her! After Dom died I stayed here out of sympathy for you, I turned down an offer to join a wrestling club in the USA, and what for? To be talked down to by a stuck-up, idiotic excuse of a mistress? Oh, lucky that Angeline Fowl never saw this, wonder what she would say to her little daughter-in-law! I think she'd be running away, screaming – yes, that's what she'd be doing, and I'd completely understand her! There wasn't a single day since you brought this… this… woman to Fowl Manor that I didn't think of your mother and what she would have said! She had always wanted you to marry some decent girl, and according to the ceremony of the Catholic church, but what did you do instead? You married a bitch, without the blessing of any church, and you're letting her ruin everything!"_

"_What exactly is she ruining?" Artemis asked innocently. So far his wife had only requested a room for herself and occasionally criticised Juliet's cooking. But of course, he couldn't have known how Delylah had been treating Juliet behind his back…_

"_My life! That's what she's ruining, Artemis!" the blonde woman snapped. "She's treating me like I was the lowliest kind of servant, like I was a rug she could wipe her feet on, but tell you what, I'm no rug! I'm a self-respecting person who's had enough! I've endured her for three weeks for your sake, but enough is enough! I've phoned the wrestling club and told them that I'm on. I already have my ticket to the States, and you can't stop me!" With that Juliet bent down and picked up a pair of suitcases and headed for the front door. At the door she turned back. "Just a friendly piece of advice, Arty. Get rid of her. As soon as possible, or she'll drive you mad too. Domovoi wouldn't want his master to spend the rest of his life as a lady-tyrant's puppet." Her features softened and suddenly she looked almost sisterly. "He loved you like a son, Arty. And he gave his life for you. Don't let anyone ruin your life, or Dom has died in vain."_

_She turned on her heels and marched out. Artemis hadn't seen her ever since._

Juliet had been right, Artemis mused. He should have long got rid of his 'wife'. Why hadn't he done it? Why?

_Mrs. Jones, the latest housekeeper, was running down the stairs at a speed that seemed almost incredible for someone her age. She was carrying a big red duffel bag in her arm, and her lips were moving silently, as though she were talking to herself._

"_Mrs. Jones?" Artemis called to her at the bottom of the staircase._

_The elderly woman looked up and he saw that she was almost shocked to see him._

"_Where are you going, Mrs. Jones?"_

"_Anywhere, just away from here," she said sharply. "The devil is residing in his house, I'm not staying here a single second longer!"_

"_But… but…"_

_The old lady didn't even give him a second glance but dashed past him, out of the house._

_And this had been the fourth housekeeper that Delylah had driven away. Because he had no doubt that it had been her doing. She wasn't getting along with anyone, especially the females. In all honesty, Artemis couldn't blame Juliet and the other three housekeepers for fleeing. He would have fled long ago if he weren't afraid. _

_Day after day he tried persuading himself that today Delylah would finally get bored of him and leave or he would find some other way to be rid of her, but so far no brainwave had come. Not that he wasn't a genius anymore – oh, he was. And he was working diligently on various inventions in the hope of winning prizes – Delylah had told him she wanted to be proud of him, after all. And her wishes had to be fulfilled or dear Father-in-law would send word to the Irish police that his son-in-law had been a really, really bad boy…_

_Sometimes even Artemis thought that he deserved his fate. He had been driven by his greed and in the hope of gold he lost his only true friend, Butler, and was humiliated in front of a bunch of musclemen and a gangster's daughter. And this gangster's daughter kept humiliating him ever since. _

_There wasn't a single day, not a single hour when she didn't remind him that she was in control of his life and that he didn't have a choice but to obey her. And he did. He worked day and night on his gadgets to bring glory to the name of Fowl because she wanted it so. He had removed the automatic sealing mechanism from his bedroom door so that his wife could enter whenever she felt like getting intimate with him. And she felt like it every day. Sometimes more than once a day. _

_After a mere five months of marriage, Artemis had learnt to hate sex and was grateful for that one week every month when his wife left him alone – thank God for giving women periods!_

_In the remaining three weeks of the month, he learnt to act like a machine and just do it, without thinking. Or just do it, while thinking of metaphysics. He would think of anything but her. Sometimes she noticed the vacant look in his eyes and questioned him, but he would never admit that he was analysing Einstein's relativity theory while she was screaming his name. _

_After a while he even got immune to her screams. She was a bit loud in bed, so what? If he was concentrating on reciting Newton's laws, he could completely block out the noises of the outside world. No one existed, but him and the laws of physics. _

_Sometimes he diverted his thoughts from having sex by weaving theories of how he could make an essence that, if drunk by Delylah, would dampen her desire and would probably make him less attractive to her. If there was no other way, he could invent something with an effect like that… It might take him months, perhaps even years, but it would be worth, no doubt…_

"_Mrs. Jones has left," he told his wife morosely that evening. Delylah, however, didn't seem sad in the least about the news._

"_She was a narrow-minded old crook anyway," she said, smiling brightly. "I told you already when the first housekeeper left that we shouldn't employ another one. From now on, we're going to have our meals brought from the nearest hotel. It might be a bit more expensive, but…"_

"_I don't care about the money you spend on meals, but what about the rest of the chores, huh? Like vacuum-cleaning, doing the washing up… Who will be doing those? You, perhaps?"_

"_Me?" She looked disgusted. "What are you thinking of me? Doing hard house-work? Especially in my condition?"_

"_Are you sick or something?" Artemis crossed his arms._

"_No, dearest," she said. The furious expression disappeared from her face and she was practically beaming like the sun at the zenith. "We're going to have a baby! Isn't that wonderful?"_

_Artemis forced himself not to grimace. "I'm not surprised, to say the least. You've been keeping me as a stud."_

"_What do you mean by that?" she asked with her arms akimbo._

"_Nothing, nothing at all," he sighed. "I'm off to finish Project 23. You know, the one that might win me a Nobel Prize."_

"_You don't sound too happy about this baby…" she said in a reproachful voice._

_Artemis turned back from the door. "I'm not even sure it's mine," he said simply, and left before she could have reacted._

Did he have Nobel prizes? – Artemis wondered. Yes, now he remembered. He had two of them. In his other life he had three. He presumed that the reason for having less Nobel Prizes in this life was that in his original life he had invented things for his own pleasure and fame. In this life he did it to please someone he normally didn't like pleasing at all.

_Great_, he snorted. Those prizes were undoubtedly the only good things in this life… But if they indeed made Delylah happy, then they weren't good things after all. Nothing was good as long as she was happy.

_Have I ever finished that anti-love-potion?_ – he thought. _No, I haven't. Half-finished. If I stayed any longer in this life, I would surely finish it… but I don't intend to stay longer than a few days..._

With a sudden thought he got up from the bed and headed for his lab. It was time to start tinkering with the time machine.

o o o O O O o o o

He spent hours in the lab whose door was hidden behind a tapestry. Artemis assumed that his 'wife' didn't know its location, so he'd surely be able to work undisturbed here.

He took the machine apart and examined every little part thoroughly in the hope of finding the solution. What kind of a component was he supposed to add to make it work like he wanted it to work?

However hard he tried, the brainwave failed to come. After hours of futile tinkering, he collapsed into the only armchair in the room and fell asleep in exhaustion.

And then the dreams came… but these weren't dreams of this life… they were of his other, 'normal' life. They were of a healthy mother enthusiastically showing his uninterested son a pretty knitting pattern; they were of a living father discussing business with him; they were of a son who actually loved him… and they were of an elf woman's heart-melting smile.

When Artemis awoke, it was already dark outside, and he found himself desperately hanging onto the last fragments of his dream in which Holly had been snuggling with him under Their Oak Tree, her auburn hair tickling his chin as she bent her head on his chest… They hadn't been wearing a thing, their bodies intertwined in post-coital bliss… and he'd felt happy. He'd been in love, and he'd actually enjoyed making love to Holly…

However, no matter how hard he tried to hold onto these pleasant memories, they slipped away, faded into nothingness, and a darker memory crept into his mind: himself lying motionless in a bed, his wife Delylah drawing circles with her index-finger on his bare chest, purring contentedly. He was impassively staring upwards, establishing that the roof must have leaked in the latest downpour as there were nasty yellowish smudges on the otherwise white ceiling. He needed to hire someone to repair the roof and repaint the ceiling…

As always, in this memory, he was thinking of irrelevant things just to forget that a black-haired demon was lying in his arms.

Artemis shook his head in disgust. This life wasn't a life at all. A man, being unable to get rid of his annoying, possessive wife was simply unimaginable for him. And yet, here he was, being that very man. The epitome of a henpecked husband.

_I've got to think of something… got to_, he told himself, glancing at the time machine that lay in hundreds of pieces on the desk. _I can't live this life… not with Delylah… and especially, **not without Holly**…_

At this thought, some invisible force clenched at his gullet, sending an unpleasant feeling into the pit of his stomach. He couldn't live without Holly. And he missed his son – his _real_ son – immensely too.

_Tomorrow_, he told himself. _Tomorrow I'm going to get up early and I will find the solution. I just need a good night's sleep, that's all…_

But that night, he didn't get sleep at all…

o o o O O O o o o

He was in bed already, close to falling asleep, when the door of his bedroom opened. Artemis stirred, annoyed at being disturbed just when he was about to drop off.

Someone switched on the lights, and Artemis lifted his arms before his eyes to block out the sudden brightness. "What the…?" he murmured, blinking, to get used to the light.

"You've been away so long…" a female voice said huskily.

_That isn't a good reason for you to disturb me so late in the evening_, Artemis fumed as he slowly lowered his arms. What he saw there made him choke.

Delylah was standing at a mere arm's length from his bed, wearing a tiny, transparent night-dress that left very little to imagination. Surely she wasn't here because she wanted to…?

"Er… listen, Delylah, I'm really… really tired, and…"

She silenced him, placing her index-finger on his lips. "You can be never tired enough for a bit of snuggling, can you?"

_If only it were just about snuggling_, Artemis thought as she flopped down on the bed next to him.

"Well?" she asked in a demanding tone, indicating that she was expecting an answer from him.

'_Should I hear a single world of complaint from her, you will be on your way to the nearest prison.'_

Artemis gulped. If he got into prison, there was no way he could put things right. Not to mention that spending the rest of his life in jail was the worst thing he could imagine – even worse than giving his 'wife' a bit of faked attention.

"You're right," he said, his voice somewhat shaky. "I'm not that tired."

"I knew you weren't," she cooed, running a finger down his chest.

_Think of Holly. Imagine it's her_… "Would you mind if we switched off the light?" Artemis suggested.

She gave him a questioning stare.

"I just… want to _feel _you now," he said with a forced smile.

"Naughty thoughts, Artemis?" she laughed, and slipped off the bed to turn off the lights.

The room went completely dark again, and only a slight movement of the bedspring indicated that she'd joined him under the covers.

_Imagine Holly… Imagine her, and don't think of anything else! And pray that you'll never have to tell her about this…_

o o o O O O o o o

"Holly!" Artemis moaned as he collapsed, totally spent.

For a few seconds everything was silent, then a female voice said sharply: "Who's Holly?"

Again a few seconds of silence issued, then finally a male voice sighed: "No one."

The bedsprings creaked as Delylah too sat up. "No one?"

"I said no one!" Artemis snapped. "I was about to shout 'holy heavens', but my vocal cords failed me in mid-sentence as I… you know."

"_Holy heavens_, indeed?" she sounded incredulous. "It sounded like 'holly', not 'holy' to me…"

"It _was_ holy," he sighed, and fighting down the urge to be sick, he reached out to her in the darkness to pull her into his arms. He had to play, at all costs. "It felt so good, you know…" he whispered into her hair.

She seemed to relax in his arms, contented with the reply. "You scared me, silly," she muttered. "I thought… I thought you were cheating on me with someone! It felt bad enough when you accused me of having lovers when I was pregnant with Arty… You know that it was all false accusation, I've been faithful to you ever since we got married… But… this was much worse. I couldn't bear the thought of you having someone else!"

"Don't worry about it… _your_ Artemis never slept with anyone else," he said heavily, and for once he knew he wasn't lying. The Artemis in this life didn't even dare look at another woman.

"Glad to hear," she whispered, pecking his cheek and slipping out of the bed.

In a minute the door closed, and Artemis was left alone, with only his dark thoughts to accompany him. He felt used. Humiliated. Abused. Practically raped.

'_Who's Holly?' 'No one.'_

The invisible hand again started compressing his gullet, settling like a heavy weight on his chest, pressing it until a sob escaped his lips.

"What have I done?" he whispered in the darkness, a single tear coursing down his cheek. "Oh, Holly, what have I done?"

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: and now, feel free to hate Delylah. I surely do. I don't think I ever hated a female original character of mine this much before… no, not even Tatyana in 'The Greatest Shame a Wizard Could Suffer'…**

**REVIEW, PLEASE!**


	18. There Can Be Only One

**A/N: review replies sent out as usual. The Artemis Fowl Fanfic Summary Executions List in my yahoo group (Files/Miscellanous) has been updated, in case you're interested :)**

**Also thanks to: _The Flying Moose, aperfectattitude, JediWeasley, SPG, an-angel-in-hell, the ark, WiseAbsol, artemisfowl12, riseofafallenangel, Fleury, refloc, anonymous, AnnieThePipster, Soccer101, TheWatcherandReader, Aly, Zodokai, Emrisah, Chibi Binasu-chan, Lii, J. Dawnwolf, septempopuli, Lady Emerald Black, Chixawitch, The OddBird, Comwizz2, frenchpiment, Queen Dragon, Anonymous, Jon12341, LettuceNPudding, Milette Tails Prower_**

**Chapter 18**

**There Can Be Only One**

It was already past five in the morning when Artemis finally fell asleep, and woke up again at six, feeling anything but fit and fresh.

With a groan, he pulled the covers over his head to block out the brightness outside – he felt that the world beyond the window was simply too cheerful for his current state of mind. And no one, he told himself, not even the bloody chirping birds were supposed to be cheerful when he felt so horrible!

For what seemed hours he rested under the covers in complete darkness, creating only a small gap between the sheets and the covers for him to breath. Somehow in the darkness he felt less miserable. In the darkness he didn't have to face reality: didn't have to face the fact that he was stranded in another life with an unbearable wife and an obnoxious son. In the darkness the immense empty space in his soul that had come to life after he lost Holly and Patrick seemed smaller. In the darkness he wasn't constantly thinking that _this is_ how things would have turned out if he hadn't met Holly… that this is what would have become of him without her: a pathetic loser who'd fallen prey to his own desire for money.

And how come he'd never met a fairy in this life? – he wondered.

_I've managed to break the fairy code in this life as well, _he remembered._ Butler and I set out to collect a fairy, and we tried several times but no fairy deigned to come to our hiding place to perform the Ritual... We were trying for a whole year when I got news about Father's death… and then I gave up. I lost interest in the fairies. If only, years later, when I again decided to find a way to make money, I had tried again to catch a fairy instead of going into the gunrunning business… Things would be so different if I did… Then again, what kind of fairy would I have caught? Some ugly gnome? Perhaps idiotic Chix Verbil? Ahhh… no use crying over spilt milk, the harm is done…_

For a long while Artemis just lay under the covers, trying not to think. But it was a futile attempt.

_You can't spend the whole morning in bed, Fowl_, a voice spoke up in his head.

_Why not? – _he replied stubbornly.

_Because you've got to work on the time machine, Genius!_

_Ah, come off it, I'm too tired to think of anything to make it work properly, I barely got some sleep because of that horrible wench!_

_It's exactly because of that horrible wench that you have to get up and start DOING SOMETHING!_

_All right, all right…_

Slower than a snail, Artemis lifted the covers off himself, blinking against the bright light spilling into the room. The sun seemed to be quite high up already, it must have been at least nine o'clock.

Artemis got up and put his clothes on, though he didn't remember when he'd last done these things as slowly as now: his movements resembled that of a sloth. There was no life in them, no determination…

First, he caught himself staring at his mirror image with his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth for several minutes, and not much later he realised he was holding his half tied-shoelaces for another five minutes.

_What's happening to me?_ – he thought dejectedly.

_You KNOW what's happening to you_, his mind replied at once. _You've written books on it, Artemis! You – are – depressed. A rather serious case at that._

_Depressed?_ Artemis sighed, sinking back onto the bed, now fully clothed. _I've never been depressed before… Well, perhaps a bit, after I lost my genius, but… that hadn't been **this bad**. Heavens, how stupid have I been? _He ran his fingers across his unruly, still uncombed locks. _I can't believe I went on moaning about the loss of my genius! How pathetic! I had everything I needed for happiness! I had Holly! I had Patrick! I had my parents! I had Butler and Juliet! And now? I have my goddamned genius, but I don't have anything else!_

_Then do something about it!_ – his mind screamed at him. _Change it back! You can do it! Use your bloody genius for something useful for once!_

For seconds Artemis stared at the wall, the cogwheels in his mind whirring madly.

_But if I… if I manage to change things back, then… I'll lose my genius again…_

_Now honestly, WHO THE HELL CARES?_

"Who the hell cares?" Artemis muttered to the Persian carpet. Suddenly he felt something surge through him: some new form of energy. "WHO THE HELL CARES!" he said aloud, jumping off the bed.

Filled from head to toe with energy and enthusiasm, he ran to the door, yanked it open and stormed down the stairs, towards his lab. Today, he'll find the solution. No matter what, he WILL.

o o o O O O o o o

In order to get to his lab, he had to cross the entrance hall where, to his displeasure, he ran into Delylah and Artemis the Third, who both appeared to be waiting for something.

"Breakfast not here yet?" Artemis asked casually, suddenly remembering that his wife had decided to have their meals brought to them from a hotel on the outskirts of Dublin.

"Apparently," the woman said dryly. "You've overslept, Artemis."

"Ah, you can't blame me… after last night… I was all tired out," he said in what he believed was a casual and joking voice, but in the meantime he felt like kicking himself. There was no way he'd be telling Holly about Delylah! Never!

Their son only rolled his eyes like he always did when one of his parents (usually his mother) referred to them having had sex. "Your hair's not combed, Father, did you know?"

"Oh… I forgot," Artemis replied. "Never mind, I'm not even hungry, I'm off to… comb my hair. Have a nice day, both of you."

As Artemis disappeared from sight, the boy turned to his mother. "Am I imagining things, or did he go in the wrong direction? The bathroom isn't that way."

"Never mind, Arty, dear," Delylah said with a cold smile. "Your father's like that: a bit absent-minded sometimes. Like all genii."

o o o O O O o o o

Artemis spent most of the day in his lab, where, he hoped, his 'wife' wouldn't bother him. After all, as far as he remembered, Delylah didn't even know where his lab was situated within the house. This was one of the few things he'd managed to keep a secret from her.

He only left the lab to go to the toilet once – he didn't even leave for lunch or dinner as he found a cabinet full of biscuits and dehydrated fruits inside the lab (all of them sugar free). Apparently he – or the Artemis that had actually lived this life – had got the idea that storing food inside the lab would spare him attending family meals.

It was late in the afternoon when the long-awaited brainwave came to Artemis. Elated to have found the solution, he began to put the time machine back together, adding two more tiny parts that would enable him to have two versions of himself at the same time without causing any damage to history or either of his two versions.

Shortly before midnight, he left the lab, hoping that Delylah was asleep already and wasn't waiting for him in his bedroom – especially because he didn't intend to return to his bedroom just yet, and if Delylah happened to be waiting for him there, she'd surely become suspicious. His all-day absence must have been suspicious enough for her, and Artemis didn't want to have to answer to an upset wife why he had been out of reach for a bit of healthy sex all day.

Peering around every corner, careful not to be noticed by anyone – even though the only persons who could have noticed him were Delylah and Artemis the Third – Artemis crept towards the wine cellar where Mulch was supposed to be waiting for him already.

Sure enough, as he entered the cellar and switched on the light, his eyes fell on a dwarf who was holding his head under the tap on one of the wine barrels, dark red liquid disappearing down his throat. Even though Artemis had turned on the lights, Mulch didn't seem to take notice and continued slurping the wine.

The owner of Fowl Manor cleared his throat.

With a sigh, Mulch turned off the tap and gave the newcomer an upset look. "Killjoy," he mumbled. "You have no idea how much I needed some pick-me-up after all that I've gone through in the past two days, and then you come and…"

"Why, what exactly have you gone through in the past two days, Mulch?" Artemis asked coldly, taking a place on a stool nearby. He doubted that anything the dwarf had gone through could be nearly as bad as _his_ current life.

"What?" Mulch snapped. "Are you asking me what? Well, take this, Arty boy: Haven is ruled by Opal Koboi and her idiot of a brother, Quartz Quench! They're terrorising the citizens, they are acting like a pair of dictators, a pair or tyrants! They even have the LEP on a leash! Don't ask me how and why Opal suddenly developed sisterly feelings for Quench, because I don't know, but I know that the situation is unbearable! Julius is dead – he died in the goblin revolution, as there hadn't been Holly and you to help him stop them! I have spent much more time in prison than in my normal life – actually five whole years at Howler's Peak – a wonder I'm still sane after all that! The point is that… You. Must. Do. Something. NOW!"

Artemis held up a placating hand. "I'm on it, Mulch. The time machine's modifications are almost ready. I hope to be able to go back in time right tomorrow – I mean, _today_ – it's past midnight, after all. And just to inform you: my life here is just as much of a hell as yours is, so no reason to shout; especially because I don't want that harpy of a wife I have to awake and come investigate."

"Wife? Wait, let me guess: Delylah. She's your wife, isn't she?" Mulch still remembered Artemis muttering about some Delylah in his sleep on the plane ride back to Ireland.

"Unfortunately."

"Hmm… Delylah… Where have I heard this name before?" Mulch wondered, scratching his jaw.

"In case you've read the Bible or seen a film version of Samson and Delilah's story, well, then that's where you've heard the name," came the uneasy reply.

"What's the Bible?" The dwarf asked, making clear that he'd never read into it or seen a film adaptation.

"Never mind, it'd be too long to explain," Artemis sighed. "The point is that Delilah was a traitor who betrayed this man called Samson. She's the type I'd call a bitch."

"And I take your wife lives up to her name…?"

"More than you'd imagine," the Irishman said dryly. "I've been married to her for eight years. I have a son who hates me and a wife who keeps me as her sex slave. I have all the reason to want to change it back, and I'll do it, even if that's the last thing I do."

"No need to be so dramatic." Mulch waved. "_Even if that's the last thing I do_… Oh come on, Arty…"

An expression flashed across Artemis's face, but he quickly straightened his features. No need for Mulch to find out what he was planning.

"Okay, so, you're going back in time… but what about me?"

"You can't come," Artemis replied. "I don't have time to rebuild your time machine as well. I need to go alone."

"But, if you go alone, doesn't that mean that there'll be two Artemises after you changed things back? One that you save in Attila's era, and one that goes back to save him and the others?"

Again, Artemis's eyes held a peculiar look for a few seconds, then he shrugged. "And what if it happens so? Holly will be happy to have two of me…"

Mulch gave his friend a quizzical look. "You're not telling me something, Arty. I know that look, and it means you're hiding something from me."

"And what if I am?" The man said casually. "Everyone's entitled to have secrets."

"And what about me, Genius Boy? Won't there be two of _me_?"

"Would you mind if there was?"

The dwarf seemed contemplative for a few seconds, then an impish grin spread on his face. "I think not. Heh, actually, I think it'd be fun. Imagine the look on Julius's face when he sees two Mulch Diggums's! And as you just said: women would be happy to have two of us. My Opal surely wouldn't mind having two Mulchies to snuggle with… one from each side…"

Artemis resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Two Mulches, indeed… as if one wasn't enough… Then again, he wasn't even completely sure that there would really be two Mulches if he succeeded in changing things back… Time paradoxes were a bit difficult to understand, even for a genius.

But, of one thing Artemis _was_ sure: there wouldn't be two of him if he could help it. The world could probably endure having two Diggums's, but of _him_, there could only be one.

The one and only Artemis Fowl.

Let Mulch believe that there would be two Artemises… The dwarf didn't necessarily have to know the whole plan.

"Listen, Mulch, could you get me a cam foil in a few hours?"

"Why do you need one?"

"Just answer me - can you or can't you?"

Mulch gave the genius a patronising stare. "What did you think of me? Mulch Diggums can steal _anything_."

"Right. Then do so and bring it here. Hide it somewhere behind the barrels and I'll come down and retrieve it in the morning."

"Tell you what, I don't like your secretiveness, Arty… Old friends tell each other things, you know."

Artemis's face seemed to soften a bit. "I do consider you a friend, Mulch. And that's exactly why I can't tell you everything."

With a sour expression, the dwarf nodded. "All right, I won't ask questions. I trust you, Arty. Do things well. Your cam foil will be here shortly."

"Thanks, Mulch."

Artemis watched the dwarf disappear into the soil, and let out a breath he had been holding. Of course he couldn't tell Mulch the whole plan… if he did, the dwarf might get the stupid-heroic idea of preventing him from carrying it out.

o o o O O O o o o

Artemis was more than relieved to find his bedroom empty when he returned there at one o'clock a.m. His mind was full of plans, his soul both anxious and hopeful at the same time, and under similar circumstances he always found it difficult to fall asleep, but this time – having missed the previous night's sleep completely - he managed to drop off as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He didn't sleep in too long, though, he was up at eight already. He quickly dressed, brushed his teeth and fished his favourite laptop out of a secret drawer.

_Good_, he thought. _This is the very same laptop I had in my other life. This will make things fairly easy…_

With that, he began to write an email.

o o o O O O o o o

Artemis decided to quit breakfast and approached the wine cellar by going down the back staircase, hoping that he'd manage to avoid an unnecessary encounter with Delylah or that spoilt little brat he was supposed to call his son.

In the cellar he found the camouflage foil that Mulch had promised, tucked behind one of the barrels.

He returned to his room the same way he'd gone to the cellar, and hastily packed a small suitcase with only a few things, the cam foil being the most important of all of them.

Now all he needed was to be able to sneak out of the manor without his family members noticing. However, he remembered not having a driving licence in this life, thus he needed to call a taxi. And if a taxi was waiting in front of the house, it surely wouldn't elude Delylah's attention…

Artemis booked a first class seat on a plane leaving for Budapest at 9.30 a.m., then called a taxi. He watched it from his bedroom window as the taxi arrived, and picking up his tiny suitcase, he hurried downstairs.

At the bottom of the staircase stood Delylah, leaning against the doorframe, looking rather miffed.

Artemis stifled a groan. He'd expected this, of course, but there had been a tiny flicker of hope inside him that maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't find out about his intentions to leave.

"Going somewhere, Precious?" she asked in a sugar sweet voice, but her expression was anything but sweet. Her eyes were glinting in a way that suggested she'd like to strangle him on the spot.

"Have to, Dear," Artemis replied, forcing himself to sound carefree. He even produced a smile. "Phonetix just called that they're interested in my latest invention. I'm meeting them in London, and-"

"Excellent, I've wanted to visit London for a while," she replied.

"What?" Artemis gasped. He'd planned everything so nicely, and couldn't let her ruin everything! "No, Sweetheart, you can't come. It's quite a… secret meeting, if you get my drift. Only the top leaders of Phonetix, and me."

"So what?" She asked with her arms akimbo. "While you're having a business meeting, I could ride the London Eye with Arty. I bet he'd be delighted to come along… He once said he wanted to see Madame Tussaud's too."

_Heavens, nooooo…_The Irishman sighed inwardly._ Think, Artemis, think! You can surely get rid of her at the airport or something…_

Artemis gave his 'wife' a smile. "Certainly, Honey. The plane to London leaves at ten o'clock. I'll quickly go online and book two more seats while you pack. Can you pack your things in ten minutes?"

"No problem, Love, you know I always have a suitcase packed, just in case…" Delylah grinned at him. "I'll go and tell Arty to pack a few things for himself. And if he leaves something behind, we'll just buy it for him in London."

"As you wish," Artemis said, and watched as the woman hurried upstairs. _Great. Just great. Exactly what I needed… _He fumed_. Well, I have about ten minutes…_

He quickly returned to his study and booked two tickets for Delylah and Artemis the Third for the London flight. Then he pulled his wallet, passport and the cam foil out of his suitcase. He tucked the first two into the inner pocket of his suit. Thankfully the cam foil was a brand new, never been used by anyone package, folded so neatly that it was barely bigger than his wallet. He tucked it safely into his other inner pocket. If he wasn't 'accidentally' groped by Delylah, she surely wouldn't notice that his suit was bulging a bit here and there…

With nothing really important left in his suitcase, he could easily leave it anywhere without making his family suspicious… Now he only had to talk Delylah into drinking a coffee at the airport before they got on the plane.

o o o O O O o o o

At ten past nine, Artemis was doing everything in his power to chat amicably with his wife, sipping a cappuccino. He tried to ignore the icy glances that Artemis the Third was sending his way, and proved to be a wonderful listener to Delylah's plans on what she and Arty would be doing in London.

"…_and the Buckingham Palace, of course, we must see that one too! No, I'm not going to the Piccadilly Circus, it's full of doves, those pestilential creatures might hit me with their droppings…!_"

_You'd look better that way_, Artemis thought, biting his tongue against the grin that wanted to spread on his face. Now, instead of a grin, his features tucked into a pained expression. "Ah, too much cappuccino, I think… I've got to visit the men's room."

He quickly stood up, leaving his suitcase at their table at the airport café. Had he not packed the most important things into his pockets, he would need to carry his suitcase with himself to the 'bathroom' now, and Delylah would surely find it suspicious. This way, however, he could simply walk round the corner, as if he were heading for the toilets, and once he was out of sight of his 'family', he could continue down the corridor towards the gate from which the plane to Budapest leaves in fifteen minutes.

"Fowl, sir?" the lady at the ticketing area asked, checking her list in the computer. "Yes, I see now, you booked a ticket online. Your credit card, please, sir."

Five minutes later, Artemis was comfortably sitting on a plane of Malév, the Hungarian Airlines, wondering whether Delylah thought he had a serious case of diarrhoea…

For the remaining ten minutes till the plane's departure, a little part of Artemis's mind kept worrying that Delylah might burst into the first class, shaking her fists at him and swearing that she'd immediately phone her father to get Artemis into jail…

These were probably the longest ten minutes in Artemis's life, but as soon as the plane set into motion, he let out a deep breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. No Delylah in sight, and there was still half an hour till the plane to London departed, so she might not even be looking for him for another ten-fifteen minutes, believing him to have a bad indigestion. And when she realises that he's nowhere to be seen (she probably even screws up her courage to look around in the men's bathroom), he'd be flying over Wales already.

With a satisfied grin, Artemis leaned back into his seat and watched the cerulean sky outside.

Everything was fine again… or _would be_ fine again, soon. He managed to get away from his horrible wife and son, he was a free man again, and soon, he'd change history back the way it was supposed to be.

Then suddenly, a thought flashed across his mind like a lightning, numbing him. What if Delylah indeed phoned her father? What if the old criminal was right now calling the Irish Police? What if the Irish Police found out he'd gone to Budapest? What if, getting off the plane, he would be running into the waiting arms of the Hungarian Police?

_Don't even think of it, Artemis_, he told himself. _Delylah loves you. She will surely want to punish you for disappearing, but she'll be curious enough to find out the reason for your disappearance from you personally, and she'd want to do it somewhere else, not in a prison…_Artemis exhaled._ Yes… no one will be waiting for me at Ferihegy. No one… Delylah doesn't want me in prison. She wants me in her bed instead…_

Sometimes you just try to persuade yourself of something that not even you believe in, but Artemis couldn't do anything else but fall back on this tactic, otherwise he would have gone mad.

He spent the rest of the flight in a half-worried, half-hopeful state, but as soon as the plane landed and he had to get up from his seat, he realised that his legs were shaking.

_Get a grip, Fowl! What if the Police catch you? They won't immediately take your time machine away, believing it to be a mere watch, and you could activate it and escape from them through time with no problem!_

This idea calmed him a bit, and he walked down the ramp with his head held high.

In the arrivals area where he had to show his passport to the local authorities, it turned out that no one had notified the Hungarian Police of one Irish criminal they were supposed to catch.

However, his anxiety didn't leave Artemis as long as he crossed the terminal for the taxi rank. He kept looking around, expecting an attack from every possible direction.

_Oh, be a man, Fowl! No one's going to attack you! Stupid little Delylah has no idea where you are, and it will take her some time to figure out which plane you left on! Anyway, she might be on a plane to London right now, fuming that you escaped, but looking forward to riding the London Eye with your obnoxious son!_

Actually, Artemis thought the latter possibility was more likely than the first. Delylah had her own credit cards (one from Artemis, one from her father) and she would surely be glad to spend as much money in London as possible.

Thankfully this time Artemis managed to get a taxi driver less talkative than last time he needed a ride to the Western Railway Station. He didn't feel up to chatting at all, as he was still too nervous – both about his sudden need to escape from Delylah and because of The Plan. If he screwed something up – just one little detail – then all was for nothing. He simply couldn't afford to make a mistake.

o o o O O O o o o

He arrived at Szeged early in the afternoon. From aboard the InterCity, he'd phoned the hotel he had stayed in last time and booked a room. The hotel receptionist must have remembered his name or face because she greeted him as a regular.

As soon as he was in his room, Artemis immediately wrapped himself in the camouflage foil and set his time machine to three p.m., 20th April, 453, this time taking into account that there were three missing centuries. That way he'd end up in the proper time, not in the second century.

Before he could have pushed the 'GO' button, he caught himself hesitating. _I've come this far… I've escaped from that wench, I can't chicken out now!_

But if I screw something up, then both of us might die… both Artemises…And then who will bring Holly and Patrick back? 

A sudden wave of despair washing over him, he closed his eyes and propped his face in his palms. Everything in his mind seemed to be hazy and unsure… then, out of the haze, Holly's smiling face emerged. Her smile was radiant, heart-warming, and almost painful to look at.

I can't lose you… I need you, Holly. You're my life, my everything… 

His eyes still closed, Artemis reached out towards the hazy image of his wife, but his fingers grasped the thin air.

With a sigh, he opened his eyes. He had to take the risk. For Holly, he'd do anything. "Alea yachta est," he murmured, and pushed the 'GO' button.

o o o O O O o o o

He landed at the same spot he, Patrick and Mulch usually landed when making a journey into Attila's time: a small clearing covered with a thick carpet of daisies.

_So far it's working_, Artemis told himself, feeling a bit relieved. He was at the same time with his other self, and he felt totally all right. He just hoped that his other self, who, in this very moment must be hiding behind the bush near the riverbed, was all right too.

Artemis set off in the northern direction.

In about an hour he reached the edge of the forest and peered out onto the empty riverbed. The rectangular hole was there in the mud, waiting for Attila's triple coffin. And, there were voices coming from a nearby bush's direction.

"I'm bored," came Mulch's voice out of thin air.

"Me too," Patrick replied, now sounding much less enthusiastic than when he'd been trying to convince his father to let him come see the funeral.

However, just by hearing his son's voice, Artemis's heart began to beat quicker. In this time, the boy was alive and well, only a bit weak due to his injuries.

What Artemis would have done to shrug his cam foil off and hug the boy! But he knew he had to hold back. The Other Artemis – the one who was crouching under the same foil with Patrick and Mulch – would be frightened to see himself coming out of the woods. The Other Artemis wasn't supposed to find out he was here – not yet, anyway.

Hours passed, and Artemis knew that soon Fiona would arrive, so he retreated a bit into the forest. And indeed, soon Mulch left for his little 'investigation', and Fiona arrived to question The Other Artemis and Patrick about their decision to return.

For a few minutes they were amicably chatting, then they fell silent to watch the funeral procession arrive.

Artemis knew that it was only a matter of minutes until Mulch appeared with the Huns shooting at him, and he retreated even deeper into the forest, hoping that he remembered the exact route they had used to flee from their pursuers.

Three or four minutes later the undergrowth rustled, signalling that someone was coming.

Mulch burst into the woods, with the invisible Fiona, The Other Artemis and Patrick in tow.

"What… the heck… was that… about?" The Other Artemis questioned the running dwarf.

"Sorry, Arty… I… ate something that didn't… allow me to tunnel… my way back to you, so I… had to run… and those Huns… noticed me, and… Oops!"

Mulch, just like in Artemis's memories, trod on the hem of the cam foil, exposing The Other Artemis, Patrick and Fiona.

The Huns behind them let out a vicious holler.

Patrick stumbled and collapsed.

Artemis knew that the time had come for him to act. He sidled as close to the others as possible, careful not to tread on the hem of his cam foil.

The Other Artemis dropped to his knees next to the boy to scoop him up, and even Mulch doubled back to see if he could help, but before they could have done anything, Patrick's hand dived into his shirt and fished out a tiny object. "Hold onto me. All three of you," he gasped.

"What?"

"Just… do… it!" the boy snapped as another few arrows shot past them.

The Other Artemis, Fiona and Mulch obliged.

Another arrow swooped towards them just as the boy pressed a key on the tiny object in his hand. Artemis, under his cam foil, lurched forward, his eyes fixed on the arrow, his genius mind calculating its trajectory.

The next instant he felt a piercing pain in his back. At the same second, the others vanished.

Sinking to his knees, Artemis let out a relieved sigh. They had made it. And Fiona was unhurt, so Patrick would live.

_They're going to save you, Holly_… Artemis thought, his mind getting foggier by the second. _Yes, they're going to save you, my Love._

He collapsed onto the ground, too tired too keep his eyes open, but his ears were still functioning. He heard as the Huns ran past him, not noticing his foil-covered body, not even with an arrow sticking out of it. Probably they thought that the arrow was embedded into the ground, not into an invisible body.

There were a few frustrated yells as the Huns realised that they had lost their prey, but soon even the yells grew fainter, along with the noise of feet thumping across the undergrowth.

And finally, complete silence fell on the forest.

_Mission completed_, Artemis thought, and with a satisfied smile on his lips, he passed away.


	19. A Message From Beyond the Grave

**A/N: congratulations to SPG, the only reviewer who managed to guess what happens in this chapter:) **

**For those who didn't know what 'alea yachta est' means (and who didn't give me an email addy or a signed review): it means 'the dice are cast' – a famous quote from Julius Caesar. **

**This chapter contains a few references to my NC-17 A/H fic, 'Welcome in Heaven', but it will still be perfectly understandable even if you haven't read that one. (Btw, in case you haven't read that one and want to read it – the link in my profile doesn't work right now, as nowadays adultffnet is more often down than working, but the fic is up in my yahoo group, in Files/Agi's short fics.)**

**Review responses sent out as usual.**

**Also thanks to: _Silver-head angel, Zodokai, riseofafallenangel, septempopuli, aperfectattitude, A Magic Fantasy, Aytheria, cokkii, J. Dawnwolf, JediWeasley, LettuceNPudding, The Flying Moose, artemisfowl12, Teya Yashitoda, AnnieThePipster, Fleury, the ark, Lady Emerald Black, Chixawitch, Rycr, an-angel-in-hell, hello, ebtwisty9, Koru-chan, Sara (no, there won't be a sequel, sorry), Chibi Binasu-chan, TheWatcherandReader, The OddBird, welovechocolate, Soccer101, refloc, CarnyG, the Thirteenth Councilor_**

**Chapter 19**

**A Message From Beyond the Grave**

_20th April, 453_

Artemis suddenly had a feeling similar to the one he had had when being transported through time.

A few seconds later he, Mulch, Fiona and Patrick landed in a meadow.

Gasping for breath, they looked around and saw that there were no Huns chasing them anymore.

"What have you done?" Mulch asked.

"Used my transporter," Patrick muttered, sitting up.

"But it's not even completed!" Artemis snapped. "It could have… splinched us!"

"It was worth a try, wasn't it?" The boy smiled. "It saved our lives. Now all we have to do is find out _where_ we are…"

"Still in the Carpathian Basin," Artemis said matter-of-factly. "At least the vegetation refers to that."

"I thought you were not a genius anymore, Arty," Mulch commented.

"I'm not. But I remember quite a few things I learned as a child. At age seven, I was fascinated with studying the various vegetations and memorising a thousand types of plants. I recognise those wild-flowers over there – they are only indigenous to the Carpathian Basin."

"If you say so…" The dwarf shrugged.

Fiona stood up, rubbing her bum. She very likely must have fallen on it, because she had a pained expression on her face as she was rubbing it. "I fear… I still don't understand how we got to be here," she said.

"I built a machine that can transport people from one place to another, in the blink of an eye," Patrick explained. "This is it." He held out the gadget to show it to his great-grandmother.

"I see…" she said vaguely, not really knowing how she was supposed to react. Having a genius for an offspring was something she still hadn't got used to. "Well… are you going back to your time now?"

"Sure as hell we are," grunted Mulch. "And don't expect me to EVER return to this time again! Or to any time other than my own! No more time travel for me! I'm getting too old for things like this."

"So old that not even your digestion works properly?" Artemis asked challengingly, daring him to tell them what he'd 'eaten' that had clogged up his system.

"Nah." Diggums waved. "It happens sometimes."

There was some secretiveness in the dwarf's eyes, but Artemis decided not to question him any longer. If he wanted to tell them, he would.

"And what are you going to do now, Fiona?" The Irishman turned to the fairy.

"I'm going to join Alexius Short underground," she said. "I was giving thoughts to returning to the camp after night falls to collect my things, but…"

"Don't," Artemis said hastily. "If the Huns see you, they might want to kill you again." He didn't even know why, but he had a funny feeling – some sort of déjà vu. As if something deep down was telling him that he _had to_ convince Fiona never to return to the camp, because… if she died, the Short line would die out too. As this thought ran across Artemis's mind, he felt some kind of a stab at his heart, like some huge pain he had never really experienced. A vast sense of emptiness… a meaningless life... Then, as quick as it had come, the feeling vanished, and left Artemis wondering what it had been. It had seemed so real… as if it _had_ happened to him…

"Dad, are you all right?" Patrick spoke up.

"Yes. Just… post traumatic shock, I suppose." A small smile appeared on Artemis's face. "You will never again manage to talk your poor old father into attending a Hun funeral."

"I don't even intend to." The boy grinned back. "Shall we go, then?"

Artemis nodded, and turned to Fiona again. "Take care of yourself, will you?" he said gently.

"I will," the fairy replied, not understanding the worry in his eyes. And truth be told, not even Artemis understood why he got so nervous by only thinking of any harm happening to Fiona…

After Patrick and Mulch said their good-byes too, the trio set their time machines to 10:01 a.m., 16th July, 2016.

o o o O O O o o o

"I'm hungry," Patrick complained as they packed their suitcase in their hotel room.

"We can get you something on the train," Artemis replied, feeling an urge to be back in Ireland as soon as possible.

"I want to try goulash," the boy replied stubbornly.

"No time for that," his father said.

"Why not? There's another IC back to Budapest at one thirty," Patrick insisted. "We could go with that. And then we reach the six o'clock plane to Dublin. And I bet Mulch's hungry too."

"No, am not," said the dwarf, desperate to stifle the rumbling of his stomach.

Artemis arched an eyebrow at Mulch. It wasn't like the dwarf to say he wasn't hungry when he obviously was.

"Don't look at me like that," Mulch grunted. "Indigestion, as I've mentioned already. I don't dare eat anything for a while."

"Then just come with us into the hotel restaurant to entertain us." Patrick grinned.

"I haven't yet said we _were_ staying for lunch," Artemis reminded his son.

"But we are, aren't we?" The boy gave him a puppy stare. "I'm still not perfectly healthy, Dad, and I need a warm lunch to strengthen me."

The Irishman heaved a sigh. He was agreeing to his son's ideas a little too often lately. "All right, all right. We're staying for lunch, but it'll be a quick one if we want to reach the train at half past one."

o o o O O O o o o

_Half an hour later_

"Not bad," Artemis said as he and Patrick were ladling their goulash soups.

"Not bad? It's the second best thing I've ever eaten!" Patrick replied.

"What is the first?"

"Lichen cakes. Mum makes them wonderfully!"

"I never knew Holly was a good cook," Artemis admitted. Funny, there were so many things he didn't yet know about his wife… He just hoped that things would be settled soon and he'd have a lifetime to get to know her properly.

"Do you mind if I switch on the TV?" the woman – an employee of the hotel - at the nearby bar counter, asked. "It's the noon news, see…"

"As you wish," Artemis replied. He doubted that the woman switched on the TV every day, especially when the restaurant was full of guests; but today, being a wonderful day for sightseeing, all other guests spent lunchtime outside, the Fowls and Mulch being the only ones who decided to dine here.

The woman hurried to the television that stood on a high shelf, and turned it on.

"_In today's news: the minister for finance about to resign; sensational discovery at an excavation; the heat-wave claims its first victims; final of the water-polo world championship: Hungary beat Serbia: 11-8_."

Artemis and Patrick continued ladling their soup with gusto, not even paying attention to the news (after all, why would they be interested in the Hungarian minister for finance?). It was only when the short-haired, female news reader mentioned the word 'Szeged' that Patrick looked up with interest.

"_A sensational discovery at an excavation at Szeged_," announced the news reader. "_Over to Mátyás Péter, who's at the excavations right now. Péter?"_

"_Good day to you, Antónia,_" replied a jovially grinning man holding a microphone.

"_Is it true that a funny-looking skeleton has been found, Péter_?" asked Antónia amicably.

"_Absolutely right, Antónia_," replied the man with the microphone. "_I'm standing right here in the area where a new shopping mall is about to be built. The workers, while excavating the area, uncovered a rather unusual skeleton. Actually, it's not so much the skeleton that is unusual, as according to the specialists, it belonged to a young man in his twenties. The unusual things are the fine material he was covered with and the peculiar armlet around his left wrist_."

"_What kind of an armlet, Péter?"_

"_Well, you wouldn't believe it, but the archaeologist insist this skeleton has been lying here since the eight or the ninth century, yet the armlet he was wearing looks pretty much like a corroded wristwatch."_

"_A wristwatch?_" the news reader pretended to be surprised.

"_Exactly, Antónia_," said the man. "_A wristwatch, from the end of the twentieth or the beginning of the twenty-first century."_

"_And what kind of material was the skeleton covered with?"_

"_That is something the specialists still haven't managed to determine. It looks like some invisibility cloak from a fairy tale, to tell you the truth. It blends with the surroundings almost perfectly. No wonder that no one found this person after he died: he was covered with the cloak from head to toe."_

"_Is it possible that we are facing some kind of an alien, Péter?"_

"_Hardly, Antónia. The doctors are a hundred percent sure that the skeleton was that of a human. Some are joking about a man from the future, though_." Péter gave his colleague and the TV viewers a rather stupid grin.

"_Thank you for your report, Péter. And now, the heat-wave currently engulfing the country_…"

But neither Artemis, nor Patrick, nor Mulch were listening to the news anymore. They were staring at each other, their soups completely forgotten.

"Do you reckon it was a time traveller, like us?" Patrick asked.

"I don't know… it could have been a fairy with a growth-spurt as well," his father replied.

"Hardly," said Mulch. "They said the skeleton-guy was a human, and all fairies have different skeletal structure than you Mud Men do."

"That's right." Patrick nodded. "We have different shoulder-blades, for instance. If those human doctors found a fairy skeleton, there would be no way they'd say it's a human's."

"But what if they did find a fairy skeleton, but are hushing it up?" Artemis wondered. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn't have explained why. He felt uneasy about the whole thing, but decided not to show it to his son and Diggums.

"Could be," replied the boy thoughtfully. "Well, our soups are getting cold if we don't finish them quickly."

Having lost his appetite for no obvious reason at all, Artemis ate another two spoonfuls, then decided he'd had enough.

o o o O O O o o o

_Meanwhile, at the Annual Meeting of Irish Star Wars Fans_

Holly had taken a seat in the huge conference room, between Doug and Nate. Jerry was away at the buffet, fetching them some crisps.

Holly was tiredly looking at the dais at the end of the room. A group of female dancers in all kinds of weird costumes were performing a dance that, according to Nate, came from 'Return of the Jedi' – the dancers in Jabba's Palace had performed a similar dance.

As Nate embarked on a tale on why his idol, Mara Jade, had been amongst the dancers in Jabba's Palace, Holly's mind was already far from the conference room. Her thoughts wandered to her husband who was surely worried about her disappearance. She seriously hoped that she could contact Foaly from an Internet Café in the evening and that Foaly would have good news for her – good news that Artemis and Patrick had finally returned to Ireland.

Her genius son and her one-time genius husband would surely find a way to get rid of Cavalieri and that Emese person without revealing the fact that she was a fairy to others. Until then, however, it would be too risky to do anything. After all, she couldn't just phone the police and tell them that those two had kidnapped her for information that only a fairy would know… and even if she managed to get Cavalieri and his female friend behind the bars without mentioning her real identity, there was no way that it wouldn't be mentioned sometime during the trials. Someone was bound to let it slip, and Holly couldn't risk it. She couldn't ask Root to send a squadron of LEP fairies to wipe the memories of every single person present at the trials, could she?

No. Artemis and Patrick had to work out something to 'neutralise' her kidnappers and keep the fairy People's existence a secret. They might even consult Foaly, and the three of them together would surely find a solution…

Jerry returned with snacks and with a bottle of what looked like a thick, bluish liquid.

"Ah, Tatooinian Bantha milk!" Doug said appreciatively and took the bottle from his friend. "Care to try, Holly? Er… Holly?"

The fairy-turned-woman looked at Doug to see that his eyes were wide open. He looked like someone who'd just seen a ghost. "Yes?"

"I think… I think my eyes must be playing tricks on me," the young man dressed as Obi-Wan Kenobi replied.

"Why?" asked Holly.

"For a second… but no, that's impossible."

"What?" asked Jerry, taking off his Chewbacca-head.

"It seemed… that for a second… you vanished, Holly," replied Doug.

"So _you too _saw that?" gasped Nate.

"What?" Holly shook her head in disbelief. What were these two talking about? "I vanished?"

"It seemed so," said Nate. "I didn't dare mention it before Doug did, because I thought you'd all think I've gone mad… You really seemed to vanish for a second, Holly."

"Funny I didn't feel a thing," she lied. The truth was that she'd felt a few seconds of dizziness and disorientation, but it vanished as quickly as it had come. She looked around to see whether anyone else had noticed her alleged disappearance. Apparently no one did. Had she inadvertently shielded? She would have noticed if she'd done it! Nonsense! The dizziness must have been caused by the baby, it was a rather common thing for Holly nowadays.

"Hey, girl, are you sure you don't have special Force abilities?" Jerry grinned down at her.

"Oh, come on…" Holly rolled her eyes, grinning back. "It must be the lights that tricked your eyes, boys."

Nate and Doug exchanged puzzled glanced, then shrugged. Surely it was the lights… People didn't vanish just like that… or they did, in fairy tales and fantasy movies.

"Back to my original question, would you like some Bantha milk, Holly?" said Jerry, pointing at the bottle in Doug's hand.

Holly had no idea what was actually in the bottle: milk with a bit of food colorant? She definitely didn't want to find out. "No, thanks, Jerry. Perhaps another time."

o o o O O O o o o

_Fowl Manor, late in the evening_

"Arty! You're home already?" Angeline flung herself into her son's arms.

"Apparently, Mother," the young man said dryly. He wasn't in a particularly good mood; he hadn't been in a good mood ever since that funny newscast in Szeged. He had an uneasy feeling in his stomach and he couldn't even have explained why.

"But… but you just left yesterday!" the woman said. "Timmy and I thought it'd take at least a few days…"

"Are you aware that you're sounding like someone who isn't happy to have me back so soon?" Artemis replied, peeling Angeline's arms off himself. With a curt nod to his father, he went upstairs.

Feeling hurt by her son's coldness, Angeline turned to Patrick. "Welcome back, dear. Come, Granny has made some cookies, you surely will like them… and while you eat, you can tell me everything."

Giving Mulch a sour look, Patrick let himself be steered towards the kitchen. "Er… Granny… may my friend join us? He's surely hungry..."

"You mean…" Angeline glanced at the dwarf over her shoulder and anyone could see the utter contempt on her features. She still didn't know why 'Arty' had associated himself with riff-raff like that tiny man who had not only arrived uninvited for the wedding but had also made impolite comments throughout the feast.

"No, Pat, thanks, I'm not hungry." Mulch shook his head while his stomach gave an almighty rumble. "Tell you what, tell Arty that I'll be back in a few hours, okay?"

"Okay." Patrick shrugged and entered the kitchen with his grandmother who looked relieved that her son's ill-mannered 'friend' didn't want any of her excellent cookies.

o o o O O O o o o

On his way upstairs, Artemis bumped into the yawning Juliet.

"Hiya, Arty, back so soon?" she asked, looking much less sleepy all of a sudden. "How did it go? Did you go back in time? Did the time machine work properly?"

"Tomorrow, Juliet," Artemis grunted. "I'm tired and peevish at the moment, so believe me, I wouldn't be the best chat partner."

"Not that it surprises me," Juliet giggled.

"What do you mean?" The man sighed.

"You're rarely a pleasant chat partner, Arty. Well, good night, then."

Too tired to come up with a snappy comeback, Artemis watched the woman waltz out of sight, then continued down the corridor towards his room. Correction: _their_ room. His and Holly's. But will Holly ever be back to share it with him?

A sudden wave of fear and sadness washed over him. And he still didn't understand it. Before he'd left for Hungary, he'd been full of optimism, and now he felt as though he were somebody else entirely. As though something had happened to him… something bad that he couldn't remember. From time to time, this funny feeling flared up in him, compressing his chest as though a particularly sizeable rhino had decided to sit on it. He wasn't sad, not all the time, that is, but again and again these emotion-snippets came, attacked him then vanished.

It felt as though he were reliving things his mind couldn't remember, only his heart could. It was a bit like reliving memories, but without flashes of pictures and sounds. He could only remember feelings, and couldn't even place them.

He punched in the code to the door of his room, and the door slid open, but Artemis didn't enter. For what seemed minutes, he just stared into the darkness, his mind replaying a conversation that had taken place between him and Holly on this very spot. It had been the first night they'd spent together… Holly had been standing before the tall, massive oak door, watching as he typed in the code.

"_01122001," he said as he typed in the numbers and the door whooshed open at once. _

"_I've memorised it." Holly nodded, not understanding the furtive smile on his face. He looked as though he were expecting her to realise something. "What?"_

"_It's a datum," he replied. "Can you guess what?"_

_After a short silence, her eyes widened. "The day we met!"_

"_Yeah." He grinned sheepishly._

_An indulgent smile spread on her face. "Artemis Fowl… who would have thought you could be this sentimental?" _

_Artemis shrugged, blushing._

"_But… how can you have remembered the date we first met?" she wondered. "You were mind-wiped."_

"_Yes, but I had coded the seal on my door long before I was mind-wiped," he replied, as though the fact that he had liked her at the age of twelve was the most natural thing in the world. "You know, after the mind-wipe I only remembered the code, but not the reason why I had chosen this particular series of numbers. Sometimes I was wondering about these numbers, but couldn't figure them out. It was a devastating feeling."_

Smiling at the memory, Artemis entered the room. At the same time a nasty, cold feeling crept into his chest. What if he lost Holly forever? He couldn't stand the thought, not again…

_Again?_ He stopped in his tracks, savouring the word. Surely, he had lost Holly once before, when she was kidnapped from the wedding. But why did he have the feeling that he'd lost her once more, only in a different way?

No matter how hard he racked his mind, he didn't remember.

Turning on the lights, he closed the door and went for his desk where his favourite laptop lay.

His body was screaming 'bed!', but his mind told him 'just one more check on my emails before I drop off'.

He switched on the laptop, typed in his password and sank into the chair, propping his head in his palms. He was half hoping that there were no messages, because his huge and comfortable bed was beckoning to him, almost seductively. In the Hun camp he hadn't had a good night's sleep as the standard Hun cot was as comfortable as sleeping on bare ground, only a bit drier. The bed in the hotel room at Szeged had been quite okay, but Artemis belonged to the type of people who only could sleep well in their own bed.

A box with '_One incoming message'_ appeared on the screen, and Artemis clicked '_OK_'. Another box popped up: '_Password_:'

_Password?_ Artemis blinked. What the heck? He had never received password-protected emails before…

In his old days, Artemis would have had no problem breaking any code and getting into any password-protected data base, but he was no genius anymore, and at the moment he felt too tired to think clearly, let alone break any codes.

_Probably it's from Foaly_, he thought between two yawns. _And if so, then…_

He typed in '_LEPrecon'._

'_Access denied'._

_Well, then… HollyShort?_

In five minutes he tried all members of the LEP he knew about and even the names of a few of Foaly's inventions, but none seemed to be the right one.

Suddenly, a new message appeared on the screen: '_A little hint: try a series of numbers_'.

"What the…?" Artemis muttered.

Somebody obviously wanted to share the message with him very badly, but wanted to make sure that it didn't get into wrong hands. And who knew about any series of numbers that only _he_ knew?

"Holly…" he whispered. Could the email be from Holly? Had she managed to get online in her kidnapper's house or wherever she was being kept?

Well, if it _were _from Holly, then only two 'serial numbers' could be possible that both of them knew: the one she had been using for the backdoor in her Haven home, and the one he was using for his own room's door.

The latter, however, was one that even Juliet knew… That left…

'_40023013' _– Artemis typed. Patrick's birthday, read backwards.

He pressed Enter, and finally, instead of '_Access denied'_, the email appeared on the screen.

**From**: Artemis Fowl II

**To:** Artemis Fowl II

**Subject:** Time travel

Suddenly feeling completely awake, Artemis stared at the monitor. A message from himself to himself? Was this some kind of a joke?

Well, one way to find out…

Artemis began to read.

_Dear Artemis,_

_You might find it most curious and undoubtedly highly suspicious that you should get an email from yourself, but I can assure you that it's completely possible and neither you nor I have gone crazy, especially because we are the same person, just in different dimensions. _

_To make sure that you **believe** me before I embark on any explanations, let me mention that you developed the computer virus named 'WormieDeluxe' at age five. It was a pathetic attempt at a virus, and you never mentioned it to anyone in fear that they would laugh at you. Not even Butler knows._

_Convinced now?_

_No?_

_Well, when you first slept with Holly, her healing magic attacked you **inside her**. Remember? I do. And no one else but Holly and you know that, and Holly's very likely still kidnapped when you're reading this._

_Now fight back your urge to blush at the memories and let me tell you one more thing: you LOVE lollipops but you would never admit to anyone. Not even to Holly._

Artemis realised he was indeed blushing, but he was confused and scared at the same time. This person – who claimed to be HIM – was talking about things that no one else but Artemis Fowl the Second would know… Could it be possible that he wasn't lying?

_And now that you're convinced (or half-convinced, I know you're not an easy person to impress – you're **me**, after all), I can get down to the reason why I'm writing you this message._

_If you're reading this and I'm not around (and I suppose I'm **not** around or you wouldn't even be reading this but I would be telling you things in person) it means that my plan worked out and I died. It was my plan to die._

"Huh?" Artemis blinked.

_Remember the arrows the Huns were shooting at you, Fiona, Patrick and Mulch? Well, they managed to kill Fiona shortly after Patrick transported us to the meadow._

_Kill Fiona?_ – Artemis frowned. But Fiona didn't die!

_Now you're surely thinking 'but Fiona didn't die!'. Yes, I know. It's because I saved her._

_But let me tell you the whole story._

_One of the arrows hit Fiona, and a few seconds after the transporter dropped us onto the meadow, she passed away. At the same second Patrick vanished. You can't imagine what I felt at the moment, Artemis! My son had disappeared into thin air without having shielded (he couldn't have done that, he didn't have any magic left – he'd used all his magic on healing my/your wounds, remember?). And then, something happened in my head too. My brain felt different all of a sudden – I felt cleverer… I became a genius again._

_I trust you understand why… but if not, then I'm going to explain it: Fiona died before she could have had an offspring, so Holly was never born and Patrick was never born. Without Holly and Patrick I never went to Mexico and never lost my genius to the Voice. _

_You have no idea what I went through at that moment, after having seen Patrick vanish and having realised why it had happened. It was pain beyond pain, Artemis. I was as desperate as I had never been before, I was empty, I was missing the only thing that truly mattered in my life: my wife and son. I even shouted at Mulch and blamed him for everything – very uncharacteristic of me._

_Despair? Emptiness?_ – Artemis, in front of the screen, wondered. That's exactly what he'd felt in the past few hours!

_However, I soon realised that shouting at Mulch wouldn't solve anything, and I had to work out something. I had to find a way to modify the time machine to enable me to go back and change things: to save Fiona. For that I needed to return to my own time, as I didn't have the necessary tools in the fifth century Pannonia._

_Mulch and I returned to present time, wondering what kind of lives we had lived without Holly. It turned out that Mulch was more often in prison than in his original life, and that Haven is right now being ruled by the Koboi siblings: dear Opal and her idiot of a brother, Quartz (I didn't kill Quartz in this life, obviously). Julius is dead too, killed in the goblin rebellion. You should have seen Mulch's face when he reported this to me: I've never seen him so desperate. He was practically begging me to change things back. _

_And I decided to do just that, because not only Mulch's and all the fairies' lives are a hell in this life… mine is probably even worse._

_I remember everything that happened to me in my original life, but from time to time I'm getting new bits of memories about this life. And every bit of them is horrible: Father died in the hands of the Russian mafia, Mother went completely mad and is living in a closed ward. I have a few memories of visiting her there, and they aren't happy memories, Artemis. Most of the time she's just staring at the wall, not even noticing I'm there. Sometimes she talks but doesn't recognise me. And sometimes she has hysterics, and tends to tear her hair and destroy the few possessions she has in her room. I've seen her in a straightjacket already. I never want to see her like that again. _

_Mum – mad?_ – Artemis frowned, trying to imagine his elegant mother looking haggard, her eyes expressionless… Certainly, he _had_ seen her in a similar state before, but Holly had healed her. He remembered his twelve-year-old self trying not to think of his half-mad mother closed into the attic. He'd been concentrating on the fairy-kidnapping, to be able to forget about Angeline's misery… to forget his own misery. Because he _had_ been miserable, whether he admitted it or not. The worst had been seeing his mother kissing a doll whom she believed to be his father…

And the Artemis whose letter he was reading had seen Angeline in an even worse condition. No one should be forced to see their mother like that…

_After Father died, I lost my interest in the fairies. Yes, apparently I have broken the fairy code in this life as well, and I tried to kidnap a fairy for several months, but after Father's death, money-making lost its meaning. At that time I needed to give all my attention to Mother whose condition was quickly deteriorating. Once I realised she couldn't be kept at home anymore (after she nearly killed Juliet in the middle of one of her tantrums), I immediately had her transported into an asylum. At this time I was fifteen. _

_Once mother was in the asylum, I again had a chance to think of myself, and I again realised that I needed more money. Not for some charitable reason like saving my Father (or anyone), but for the mere sake of having it. Aurum est potestas, after all…_

_I wish I had decided to carry on with the fairy-kidnapping plan, but at age fifteen fairies seemed a bit more ridiculous than at age twelve, and I, considering myself a grown man, decided to do something more serious. I became a gunrunner._

"A gunrunner?" – Artemis gasped. Impossible! He would never have done such a thing!

_I know what you're thinking now: that you would never have sunk so low. I agree: the Artemis who had been softened by the fairies' friendship wouldn't have done it. But I have never known the fairies – not in this life. My heart was hardened, and I had no one left who loved me, and no one left to love. I simply didn't care for anyone or anything but gathering wealth._

_Heartless, you could call the Artemis that lived this life, and you'd be right. But the Artemis in this life paid tenfold for his sins._

_On the plane ride back from Budapest, I was beginning to get memory snippets about this life, and there was one about someone called Delylah. I only remembered the name, though, not who she really was._

_Upon returning to Fowl Manor, I found out. Unfortunately._

_At age eighteen, I was smuggling weaponry to the Middle-East, and I even went there with Butler to make a favourable deal with the leader of a local military group (Butler tried to dissuade me in vain). However, there was another gunrunner who considered me as competition, and decided to get rid of me._

_Butler died in a crossfire and the competition's gorillas captured me. For hours my life hung in the balance, and it was the competition's daughter who saved me. But at what price?_

_I had to marry her, take her to Ireland and pretend to **love** her._

_Why, you may ask?_

_Because her father is a powerful man. He has connections all over the world, and in Ireland too. In the Irish Police and jurisdiction, for instance. He only needed to make a phone call and I would have been on my way to the nearest prison if I didn't make his daughter happy._

_So I married Delylah, and pretended to love her. But I hated her with all my heart. _

_I served her in bed, fathered a son to her, but detested myself every time I touched her. It was repugnant. Not her, she's extremely pretty, but… I couldn't even explain it. For me, in this life, sex is a necessary thing I hate. I look at it like most wives in the ancient times and middle ages, who just let their husbands do it and prayed for it to end quickly. Ironic, isn't it?_

_Two days ago, when I returned to Fowl Manor, I met Delylah and suddenly remembered all the humiliation I had gone through at her side. And then I met our son, Artemis the Third. If I didn't think that using smilies is childish, I would insert a sarcastic face here. In one word: horrible. My son is more obnoxious than I have ever been, and to cap it all, he hates me. Just by looking at him and seeing his icy stare, my heart aches for Patrick. The two boys are as different as night and day. They both have the Fowl dignity, but while Patrick inherited his mother's kind-heartedness, Artemis the Third inherited Delylah's unbearable nature. Like mother like son._

_The night after I returned from Hungary, Delylah paid me a visit in my room. Unfortunately, she had years before instructed me to remove the coded seal from my door, so that she could visit me anytime she felt like it. And to my great regret, she feels it like quite often._

_You have no idea how hard it is to write this down – even merely recalling that night is hard, let alone tell someone about it (even if that someone is myself)._

Could it be? – Artemis before the screen gulped. Could it be that after returning from Budapest, he was forced to…?

_I didn't want to, I really didn't. But I had to. I knew I had to, or Delylah would possibly have phoned her father, and if I wanted to have a chance to put things right, I couldn't risk being wanted by the police, could I?_

_I slept with her that night. And I was thinking of Holly all along. Otherwise I wouldn't have been able to stand it. I forced myself to picture Holly's face, her body, her kisses… By the end of the act I managed to delude myself so much that I even screamed her name. Not Delylah's – Holly's._

_If I hadn't been a genius to come up with a reasonable-sounding explanation, I would have got into a serious trouble. I did not, and Delylah left my room in the belief that she had heard something wrong._

_I don't know how long I was staring into the darkness, sobbing. Yes, Artemis, I was crying like a little boy, and I'm not ashamed to admit it; at least not to you. I felt raped, used, and absolutely Holly-less. I hated – and still hate – myself for having slept with my 'wife', but I had no other choice. If you really want to, you can tell Holly about it, but seriously consider it before you do so. _

_After that night, I decided I had to act and began working on the time machine. I met Mulch that day – that was when he told me about the upheaval in Haven – and I asked him to bring me a cam foil. He did, and he questioned me as to why I needed it, but I couldn't tell him. He would probably have wanted to save me from my 'stupid heroism'. I don't want to be saved. I only want to put things right, to save Fiona, and I want you to save Holly._

_I'm going back in time in a few hours, to the time when the Huns began chasing Mulch. If you're reading this it means I succeeded in saving Fiona – and it cost me my life._

Artemis frowned at the screen. The uneasy feeling he had had all day was growing by leaps and bounds.

_My plan is very simple: get the arrow shot at Fiona, instead of Fiona. She lives, I die. And you, Patrick and Mulch can return to your own time that is – hopefully – your normal life._

_You may ask why I want to die. Simple: if I survived, there would very likely be two of us: one who went back in time to save you, and one who was saved. I'm guessing that Holly wouldn't be too happy about having two husbands at once…_

_This brings us to the question of Mulch. If I'm not mistaken, there are two of him at the moment: the one who came with me into this life, and the one whom I'm going to save in the past. It's possible that once you three return to our time one of the Mulches disappear, but it's not very likely._

_I'm sorry to have messed up time so much, and I'm also sorry that I can only partly put it right, but even a genius has his limits. And I think that sacrificing my genius self to let my non-genius self live is more than one could expect of me._

_I'm lucky to have this laptop in this life as well, because otherwise I'm not sure I could have left you a message. And I wanted to leave you one at all costs, because I wanted you to realise something. To realise that you've been a prat for months, Artemis. A stupid, pathetic idiot! Remember what Holly told you about your 'illness'? She said it would slowly, gently kill you. You can't let that happen. You can't continue sulking and grieving after your genius. Be happy, Artemis! Save Holly, and be happy with her. Realise at once that you have everything you need to be happy: a wonderful wife, an exceptionally bright son, a future son or daughter who will surely take after your charming Holly, and you have your parents, Butler and Juliet. True, you don't have your genius, but I do. And what good does it do me? Nothing at all. _

_My genius is **nothing**._

_You have everything, and I envy you for that. _

_Don't let your happiness slip through your fingers! Grab it and hold tightly onto it! Don't let it go!_

Artemis stared at the screen, some funny feeling spreading in his stomach. Was it… happiness? Hope? He didn't know. All he knew was that this feeling was beginning to counteract the desperate, sad feeling he had felt all day. And finally he understood what that nasty feeling had been: his heart was remembering the trials he had gone through in his other life. He had been feeling the despair of the Artemis writing this email. The sorrow of the Artemis who was ready to sacrifice himself.

Then he stiffened. _Sacrifice?_ Artemis – himself, his other self – dead? Wearing a cam foil?

"Heavens," he muttered, sinking lower in his chair. "The newscast…"

A skeleton with modern wristwatch, under some funny-looking material. Funny looking material: cam foil. Wristwatch: his time machine.

The news reader had said that the young man under the funny cloak must have died in the eight or ninth century… but in fact he had died in the fifth. The archaeologists simply didn't know about the missing three centuries.

The skeleton belonged to Artemis Fowl II who had died in 453.

Artemis ran his fingers across his black locks, feeling horrified. It wasn't every day you heard that archaeologists were examining your skeleton… That was a bit too morbid...

Fighting down his urge to be sick, Artemis decided to finish reading the email – there wasn't much left of it, anyway.

_I'm finishing this letter with a few more pieces of advice, I hope you don't mind, Artemis._

_First: never ever think of becoming a gunrunner. _

_Second: value the chance to have your parents around you, no matter how annoying they can be (this especially concerns Mother – I know you haven't been on really good terms with her lately)._

_Third: if Butler's trying to give you a friendly piece of advice, listen to him. He's older and more experienced, never forget that._

_Fourth and final: tell Patrick never to get involved with a nymphomaniac! _

_Be well, and make our beloved Holly happy,_

_Artemis Fowl the Second_

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N:** this part made my mum cry… As far as I remember I too had tears in my eyes while writing but I didn't really cry. Currently I'm writing a fic in the Bartimaeus trilogy fandom, and have just written a part that made me bawl like a baby. Literally. My mum scolded me for having used too many tissues…:p Isn't that weird? Has such a thing ever happened to you while writing your fic? Just wondering whether I'm the only over-sensitive freak around… ;)

**REVIEW PLEASE!**


	20. Vanitatum Vanitas

**A/N:** **happy Easter to everyone!**

**Chapter title means 'vanity of vanities' in Latin (Bible, Ecclesiastes Chap 1 verse 2).**

**Review responses sent out as usual.**

**Also thanks to: _anon, J. Dawnwolf, refloc, Silver-head angel, Lumos2000, SPG inc., KellyMarie, Zodokai, Me, Queen Dragon (I hope you will read my Barty fic – put me on your author alert list if you haven't done so yet), The OddBird, Lady Emerald Black, AnnieThePipster, cokkii, Lii, Aly, hello, TheWatcherandReader, WiseAbsol, Koru-chan, Chibi Binasu-Chan, an-angel-in-hell, caramellxkissx, Chixawitch, shadow-slade, fluffyrachel, Dark S3cret_**

**Chapter 20**

**Vanitatum Vanitas**

It was past midnight when Artemis got into bed, and despite his extreme tiredness, sleep eluded him.

He was lying on his back, looking into the darkness.

He still couldn't believe what he had read.

Well, he _could_ believe it, because it all made sense, but… it was just too much to take.

Getting an email from his other self who had been dead for one thousand and five hundred years was simply overwhelming.

And just to think that those archaeologists in Hungary were currently examining _his_ skeleton… Artemis shuddered and in spite of the warm summer night, pulled his covers more tightly around himself.

From time to time he tried to persuade himself that what he'd just read wasn't real, it was only a nightmare, but again and again the Other Artemis's written words swam across his mind:

_You LOVE lollipops but you would never admit to anyone. Not even to Holly…_

Artemis's lips tucked into a smile. How very true. He liked lollies. Not all sorts, but the strawberry-flavoured ones he did like. Perhaps some day he'd tell Holly that he liked them after all but he had said he didn't like them because he didn't want to sound childish.

Childish? – he wondered. He doubted he ever acted childish… Well, perhaps only when he had been sulking about not being a genius anymore.

_You've been a prat for months, Artemis. A stupid, pathetic idiot!_

The Other Artemis was right. He had been a complete jerk. He had made not only his, but Holly's life a hell too. Surely Holly would never admit that she was suffering when seeing Artemis sulk, but Artemis knew well enough that it must have been tearing her apart.

He had shouted at her on the day of their engagement, he had been rude to her not much after she had had a nasty bout of morning sickness… He was supposed to be gentle with her, but no, he had been a brute. And still, Holly didn't reprimand him for shouting, only closed him into her arms, rocked him and soothed him…

_I don't even deserve her_, Artemis told himself. _She's a real treasure, and I was pushing her away! I put her second after my genius! In my wedding vows, I said I had realised what a treasure she was and that I didn't want to lose her… and yet, even during the ceremony, I was lamenting over my lost genius! Idiot, idiot, idiot!_

The Other Artemis, the long dead Artemis had been right. Apparently, that Artemis had had his genius, but was still unhappy. And here he was, married to the most wonderful elf in the world, having a son whom he had grown to love and who loved him back; and he was unsatisfied.

He had no reason to be unsatisfied! If he could only forget about his goddamned lost genius, he could be the happiest man on earth!

But could he ever forget about his loss? Could he ever be a whole man without his amazing brains? Could he pretend that nothing had happened? Could he pretend he wasn't missing a part of himself? Could he pretend he wasn't ashamed of being _average_?

_I chose to become average_, he reminded himself, sitting up in his bed and hugging his legs. _And I made the right decision. I saved millions of lives with that decision… I only lost mine. _

_But have I really lost it? Hadn't my **real life** only started that April day when Holly appeared here at sunset, looking human and announced that she would stay with me?_

He bent his head and propped his chin on his knees, deep in thought. Despite all that The Other Artemis had written, his soul was still fighting a battle: half of him knew how lucky he was to have Holly, Patrick, his family and friends; but the other – rapidly diminishing – part kept reminding him that the loss of his genius would never leave him in peace.

Hours passed, the battle in him raged, and by the time the first light of dawn filtered into the room, Artemis felt that he had won the battle. His 'longing-for-his-genius self' lay bruised and dying in a corner of his heart, his 'hopeful family man self' standing over its battered body, leering down at it with a pitiful pout.

The latter didn't hate the former, just pitied it for its greatest weakness: vanity.

It had all been about vanity after all… the whole battle had been about vanity.

Had Artemis not been so proud of his former abilities, hadn't he loved showing off his brilliance to others, its loss wouldn't have traumatized him so much.

Even at his wedding, he had been pondering what the guests would say if they found out he was no longer as bright as he used to be. He had turned down the invitations to hold lectures at universities for the same reason: he couldn't stand the thought of being asked a difficult question by an exceptionally clever student and not being able to answer it.

The world knew him as a triple Nobel Prize winning genius, and if it ever came out that something had 'addled' his brains, causing him to lose dozens, if not hundreds of IQ points, then he'd surely die of shame…

_Would you, really?_ – he asked himself. _Would it matter what others were whispering behind your back as long as you were holding Holly's hand and carrying your newborn baby in your arm? Would it matter if they were pitying you, as long as you didn't feel pitiable at all? See? No. It wouldn't matter. _

In a considerably lighter mood, Artemis got up and went down for breakfast, deciding not to mention the email to anyone. Perhaps some day he'd tell Holly… her and no one else.

o o o O O O o o o

"Good morning, Dad," Patrick greeted him in the dining room where Juliet was already setting the table for breakfast.

"Good morning, Son," Artemis replied with a small, slightly forced smile. "My parents?"

"They haven't yet come down. I'm glad to have a chance to talk to you without Grandmother around…" The boy beckoned his father closer and whispered: "She was rather inquisitive last night. Of course I told her nothing but the fact that we found what we were looking for. I didn't go into details, because I didn't think it'd be a good idea to tell her about time machines… it would only confuse the poor thing."

"Yes, it surely would," Artemis said absent-mindedly.

"Are you all right?" the boy asked. "You look unusually pale, Dad."

Artemis shook his head. "It's all right, I just didn't sleep well last night."

"What do you intend to tell your mother if she asks you the same questions she asked me?"

"Well…" Truth was that Artemis didn't have the slightest idea what to tell his parents if they questioned him about their journey. For a second he wished he still had his genius because that would undoubtedly help him avoid answering unwanted questions, but as soon as this idea crossed his mind, he felt ashamed. He wasn't supposed to have such thoughts; they were disturbing, depressive and most definitely harmful.

Angeline, Artemis Fowl the First and Butler arrived a few minutes later, and as expected, Angeline immediately swooped down on her 'little Arty'.

"Good morning, Dear, how's your sleep been?" she asked her son sweetly.

"Not well, Mother, but thank you for asking," Artemis replied impassively.

"Then you weren't the only one who had a bad night," his father said, poking his fork into his scrambled eggs. "I've had a rather unpleasant dream…"

"What kind of a dream, Grandfather?" asked Patrick in the hope of making Angeline forget about the questions she wanted to ask Artemis.

"Well… it seemed quite impossible, but… in my dream, I was telling my friend about Holly being a fairy."

"Your friend?" Artemis arched an eyebrow at his father. "Which friend of yours?"

"Cesare…" His father shrugged, reaching for a piece of toast as though he didn't think much of his dream at all.

"Holy shit," Artemis muttered.

"Arty!" said Angeline, who had never heard her dignified son utter words like that.

"Do you think what I think?" said Patrick, turning to his father.

For a few seconds father and son stared at each other, then Artemis nodded. "It would make sense…"

"Obviously. He's an archaeologist. He'd love to find the grave," Patrick agreed.

"What are you two talking about?" Fowl Senior enquired, looking hopelessly confused.

"It wasn't a dream, father," Artemis said darkly. "At least, _very likely_ it wasn't _just _a dream."

"What?" whispered Angeline, her dark eyes widened with shock. "You don't mean that Timmy… Timmy told…? And that it was Cavalieri who kidnapped…?"

"I have a good reason to think so." Artemis nodded, then turned to his father. "When did you tell him? Do you remember?"

Frightened by his son's scornful face and accusatory tone, Fowl Senior shook his head. "I don't remember ever telling him about Holly! Please, don't look at me like that, Artemis!"

"The engagement party," Patrick said suddenly.

"What?" the elderly man frowned.

"You were drunk." Artemis glowered at his father. "And you left the house with Cavalieri. You were walking in the garden for at least ten minutes… Do you remember anything of what you two were conversing about?"

"I don't even remember leaving the house with Cesare…" Fowl Senior replied. "It can't be possible that I told him… I would never… It was just a dream, I…"

"If I may mention it, sir, drunk people tend to spill the beans…" Butler said matter-of-factly. "I wouldn't accuse you of actually having revealed the existence of fairies to Mr Cavalieri, but the possibility cannot be ruled out."

"Dom's right, sir," Juliet chimed in. "I remember Joe the Bone-cracker after having drunk five tequilas: he was merrily talking about his passion for wearing female underwear… That was when I stopped idolising him."

"Father," Artemis turned to Fowl Senior with a serious expression.

"Look, Son, I'm terribly sorry if it was really me who told Ces-"

"Don't apologise, Father," Artemis held up a hand to stop the tirade that was to come. "There's no use crying over spilt milk, is there? Just tell me: does your precious _friend _Cesare have an estate here in Ireland? And if yes, where?"

"Well…" The lord of Fowl Manor scratched his jaw, thinking. "As far as I remember, he has a manor near Kilkenny…"

"Then we're going to pay him a little visit there," Artemis said firmly.

"You don't think Mum is being held there, do you, Dad?" wondered Patrick.

"Can you imagine Cavalieri dragging Holly as far as his Italian home when he could just take her to Kilkenny? He's more parsimonious than anyone I know, I doubt he'd spend money on taking her abroad."

"Well… that sounds sensible," the boy admitted. "But will he let us enter and investigate? I doubt that…"

"He will… if you use _mesmer_ on him," replied Artemis with a sly smile.

"Oh… good idea, Dad. Can you take me to the oak tree where you first met Mum?"

"Let's go, Son." Artemis stood up from the table, followed by Patrick.

"But… but Arty, you have barely touched your breakfast!" Angeline said reproachfully. "If you continue like this, you'll get even thinner than you already are!"

"Your mother's right, Artemis, you look like someone who hasn't been eating much lately," perceived Butler. "And you're very pale too. I've been watching you since we began eating breakfast and you look like someone who's seen a ghost."

_A ghost? No, I just got an email from my dead self, but everything's fine, old friend,_ Artemis thought, but aloud he only said: "Don't worry about me, Butler, I'm all right. Come, Son." He turned his back on the others and headed for the door, but his father called after him:

"Artemis!"

Heaving a sigh, the young man doubled back. "Yes, Father?"

"How… how can I ever make it good?" Fowl Senior said with a desperate, shameful expression.

"Don't ever drink alcohol again. That's all, Father," Artemis replied coldly and left the house with his son in his wake.

o o o O O O o o o

_Ops Booth, Police Plaza_

"Any news on Fowl?" barked Commander Root at the centaur who was deeply immersed in watching something on one of his many computer screens.

"None," Foaly replied, never taking his eyes off the monitor.

"And you're saying that so calmly?" snapped Root.

Foaly looked up at his boss with an annoyed expression. "Would it help if I became as jittery as you are, Julius?"

"First: I'm not jittery, second: don't-"

"…Call me Julius, I knoooow," the centaur drawled. "I'll tell you as soon as something happens."

With that the centaur again sank into an oblivious-to-the-outside-world state, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Root, annoyed that 'pony boy' wasn't giving him as much attention as he deserved, crept behind the centaur to look over his shoulders at the monitor. After a few seconds he realised that he was watching some Irish TV channel. It seemed to be a live broadcast, and the people it showed were undoubtedly mad. They were dressed up as a bunch of freaks in longish, robe-like things, some of them slashing with colourful rods.

"_And now_," said a reporter-look-a-like on the screen, "_let me ask you a few questions_." She turned to a man wearing what looked like a rubber mask that resembled a mixture of a duck and a frog with two long, leathery ears. _"You're dressed up as Jar Jar Binks, is that right?"_

"_Very much so_." The person nodded eagerly.

"_So, Jar Jar, do you visit the Annual Meeting of Irish Star Wars fans every year?"_

"_Almost every year, yes. I've got loads of friends here, see_…"

"_When did you arrive for this meeting, Jar Jar?"_

"_I only arrived a few hours ago, but some have been here since yesterday morning. After all, the meeting lasts three days!"_

"What?" barked Julius. "Foaly! You're watching a broadcast of some freakish Star Wars fan meeting?"

The centaur turned around, rolling his eyes. "I needed something to take my mind off worrying about Fowl and his stupid time-travel mission. Besides, Holly's here at the meeting and I'm just making sure everything's all right."

"Oh… I forgot she was going there," Root admitted, his features softening a bit. Then, as quick as his softness had come, it vanished to be replaced by an angry Beetroot-face. "What about your job, eh? Consider today's wages docked from your salary!"

"Keep your hair on, Julius and be so kind to remain silent. It's not every day I get to watch a live broadcast of a Star Wars fan meeting!"

His face redder than the setting sun, Root opened his mouth to shout at Foaly, then thought better of it and marched out of Ops Booth.

o o o O O O o o o

Artemis parked the Jeep by the oak tree and Patrick practically jumped out of the vehicle, looking for an acorn. He had to search through the undergrowth quite thoroughly to find a battered, half-broken acorn that must have fallen off the tree the previous autumn, as it was the middle of summer, too early to find any freshly fallen ones.

"This will do," he said, pocketing the acorn. "Let's go back to Fowl Manor and I'll bury it in the garden."

His father nodded, his eyes distant. He was staring at the nearby river, memories of happy hours he'd spent here with Holly rushing to him.

"_Catch me!" Holly ran into the water, the tiny sparks of reflected sun dancing around her almost naked body (she was only wearing a tiny bikini and matching top). It was the end of April, but unusually hot for the season: around twenty-seven Celsius degrees. Artemis put this down to the greenhouse effect and under normal circumstances he would have been thoroughly annoyed by it (he was an avid environmental protector, after all), but as he watched his pretty girlfriend wearing next to nothing, droplets of water coursing down her neck into her tiny top, he couldn't feel annoyed at having such wonderful weather in April. _

_Holly splashed water around herself like a little girl, squealing with delight. "It isn't even that cold!" she called to Artemis. "Come on in, you'll love it!_

_Artemis felt an irresistible urge to join her in the water, wrap his arms around her slim frame and take her right there, but he didn't budge from the bank._

"_What are you waiting for?" Holly shouted, beckoning to him._

_Artemis made a grimace. "I can't swim."_

_For a second she seemed appalled, then shrugged. "I'll teach you then. No need to be afraid, there isn't much drift, this is quite a peaceful river…"_

_Artemis still hesitated._

"_Oh come on, don't tell me that you, Fowl of Jungle, hero of Second Tenochtitlan, vanquisher of Quartz Quench, are afraid of learning to swim?" Holly goaded him with a lopsided smile. "Tell you what, you'll get an reward if you manage to learn it quick."_

"_What kind of a reward?" Artemis raised an eyebrow at her._

"_Weeell… I never really intended to try to make love outdoors, but… I might change my mind…"_

"_Whoa, Miss Short…" Artemis grinned at her. "That sounds quite like a reward worth working for."_

_Despite being a complete anti-talent in all kinds of physical exercises (except lovemaking, Holly said he was pretty talented in that area), Artemis managed to learn a somewhat clumsy breaststroke within an hour. And he got his reward._

His lips tucked into a dreamy smile at the memory of the 'awarding ceremony'.

It had been nice with Holly in his bedroom, no doubt about that, but it didn't compare to what if felt like at the river-bend with the sun shining down at them, the wind caressing their bare skin... He had never felt so alive, so fulfilled, so happy even.

Yes, happy. Definitely happy. The feeling of a soft, warm body in his arms, the knowledge that he was loved more than he ever expected to be loved… Here at the river-bend he had always managed to forget about his lost genius. Here he had allowed himself to be lost in Holly's love, to hide himself from the cruelty of the outside world in her arms… That love had been his haven, the only 'place' where he felt comfortable, satisfied and at peace.

"Are you all right, Dad?" Patrick said as he flopped down on the passenger seat.

Artemis nodded, tearing his glance from the river and from 'Their Place'.

"You know… I've been thinking," said the boy as his father drove the Jeep onto the country road. "About what Grandpa said. If we had only known that it was Cavalieri whom he'd told about Mum being a fairy, we wouldn't even have needed to go to Hungary. We wouldn't have needed to go back in time. Actually… I think we did it all in vain."

"No," Artemis reply quietly. "It wasn't in vain."

Patrick glanced at his father, studying his profile for a while, but decided not to question him. He seemed serious, though. Did his father know things that he, Patrick didn't know?

Relieved that his son wasn't asking any more questions, Artemis drove on, his insides filled with anticipation. If they managed to get into Cavalieri's Manor and rescue Holly, then he'd never be unhappy again. He wouldn't allow himself to be unhappy as long as she was at his side.

Patrick was wrong thinking that the journey back in time had been in vain. Despite all the hardships he had gone through in Attila's camp, despite almost dying and seeing his beloved son die, despite changing history and living a different and horrible life for a while, the journey to the past had been the best thing that could have happened to Artemis… because it made him understand that Holly, Patrick, his parents and the Butlers were what mattered, and his genius or lack thereof was only second after family and friends.

He wasn't sure he'd ever manage to get rid of all of his vanity that had so far made his non-genius life a hell, but he had already managed to let go of a considerable part of it…

"What are we going to do with Cavalieri and his female accomplice once we're in his manor?" Patrick wondered. "We can't turn them in to the Police, can we?"

"Well…" Artemis shrugged. "You're the genius. You have a few hours before we get to visit Signor Greediness. Come up with a plan."

Patrick made a grimace. "Thanks for the help, Dad."

o o o O O O o o o

_Cesare Cavalieri's Manor near Kilkenny_

"Still no news on Fowl!" huffed Emese, dropping herself into an armchair by the window.

"You gave him three more days, remember?" the archaeologist said, his eyes fixed on the television. "The three days will be up tomorrow. He will surely contact us by tomorrow midnight if he wants to see his precious wife whole again…"

"If only we still had that little tramp locked up!" she sighed. "I don't like the idea of bluffing… we might get lucky that Fowl returns with the coordinates of the grave in the belief that his wife is still our captive, but if he finds out somehow that she escaped, he would never give us the coordinates! Are you listening to me at all, Cesare?" She glowered at the man who was staring at the TV unblinkingly.

"The fairy's there," he whispered.

"What?"

"I've just seen her on TV!" The man turned to her with a half-shocked, half-elated expression.

Emese paled. "You don't mean she's giving an interview to the Police right now?"

"No." Cavalieri shook his head. "She's playing Jedi at the Annual Meeting of Irish Star Wars Fans."

"What the…?" breathed the woman. "You don't mean you've been watching a Star Wars meeting, Cesare?"

"Well…" The man blushed a bit. "Actually… I've liked this movie series since I was a kid. I remember seeing Episode IV – The New Hope at age ten… It was marvellous. Different from anything I'd ever seen before… In 1977 spaceships and androids and all kinds of funny-looking aliens were something completely new… I idolised George Lucas…"

Emese rolled her eyes. "I don't care whom you idolised as a child, Cesare! Are you absolutely sure it was our little escapee you saw there?"

"A thousand percent sure, my dear."

"Well, then… what are we waiting for?"

"Er… indeed." Cesare stood up and reluctantly switched off the TV. "We'll be needing costumes, though."

"What?" Miss Hunfalvy arched an eyebrow at her boss.

"Costumes. You need costumes to enter the fan meeting. Entry is free but you need to be wearing a costume from the movies," the archaeologist said cheerfully. "Luckily I have an old Jedi robe that I wore to a friend's wedding twenty years ago… You know, my friend was just as crazy a Star Wars fans as I was, and he'd met his wife in a Star Wars fan club. They got married in Han Solo and Princess Leia costumes and instead of the bridal march the band was playing the Star Wars fanfare…"

"You can't expect me to dress up like Princess Leia?" Emese snapped.

"You can dress up like Jabba the Hutt if you want, my dear." Cesare shrugged. "And we'll need to get costumes for the guards as well…"

"How many of them do you intend to take?" she asked.

"Five or six at least. Someone needs to be able to fight if something goes amiss… As far as I remember there's a nice shop in Kilkenny where you can rent costumes. We'll get the guards a few wookiee get-ups…"

Emese made a grimace. "They'll look charming for sure."

o o o O O O o o o

_Fowl Manor_

"I've got it," Artemis told Butler in his study. "Father was right, according to the records of the Land Registry, Cesare Cavalieri indeed has an estate near Kilkenny. I even downloaded a map to help us get there."

"Aren't the records of the Land Registry secret?" The one-time bodyguard raised an eyebrow at the young man.

Artemis gave Butler an indulgent smile. "Of course they are. But it wasn't that hard to hack into them. Luckily I got enough experience in hacking in the last twenty years, so I could pull it off without any difficulty. It was a standard hacking procedure, it didn't require a genius. Tell Juliet to get ready."

"She's ready and so am I," replied the elderly man.

"You aren't coming," Artemis said. "Your heart…"

Butler put an arm on his one-time charge's shoulder. "My heart is fine. I haven't had any problems for a while, and just driving you lot to Kilkenny won't do me any harm."

Artemis gave his old friend a grateful smile. "It's good to have you around, Butler."

For a second, the manservant thought he'd seen tears glinting in the young man's eyes, but convinced himself that he'd been imagining things.

o o o O O O o o o

"Be careful, Arty!" Angeline said in a trembling voice, wringing her hands as Artemis, Butler, Juliet and Patrick headed for the Jeep (Artemis thought that the Bentley wouldn't be big enough for five if they managed to retrieve Holly).

"Don't worry, Mother, everything's going to be all right," Artemis said, trying to sound confident.

"Son," his father called after him. "I'd like to come."

"You, Father? Why?"

Fowl Senior heaved a sigh. "It was me who brought it all about. I want to come along to help you put it right."

A small smile appeared on Artemis's face. "Mother's nervous enough as it is, I can't let her be even more nervous just because you left with us. I appreciate the gesture, but I think it's better if you stay here. We might need to run or something, and with your artificial leg…"

"Artemis, I-"

The young man held up a hand to stop his father talking. "I'm not angry with you if that's what you're worried about. Anyone can make mistakes, and I trust you've learned from yours."

Fowl Senior nodded with a remorseful expression. "I'm not drinking alcohol ever again."

Artemis stepped to his father and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure you won't. Wish us good luck, Father."

Artemis the First gave his son a grateful glance. "Good luck, Son. Bring Holly back. God knows, I've grown fond of her… and she makes you happy, I can see it, so she can only be a wonderful person."

"Yes, she makes me happy," young Fowl said with a smile. "And we'll bring her back."

"Arty! Hey, Arty!" a voice – or two voices? – called to him.

Fowl Senior and Junior, Angeline, Patrick and the Butlers all turned in the direction of the garden gate where Mulch Diggums appeared. Correction, where _two_ Mulch Diggumses appeared.

The lady of Fowl Manor stared at the dwarves with utter horror on her face – she had never liked Mulch, let alone two of him!

"What happened to you, Smelly?" Juliet said, her blue eyes widening with surprise. "Did someone clone you or something?"

"No." Mulch1 grinned.

"It was just a bit of messing with time," Mulch2 added.

Angeline and her husband exchanged confused looks, and seeing their confusion, Artemis decided it wasn't advisable to discuss time-travel in front of his parents. "Let's get into the Jeep, shall we?"

"Where are we going?" enquired Mulch1.

"To save Holly," Juliet replied. "We have a suspicion where we might find her. And on the way there you can tell us about your… er, accident."

"Gladly, Stinker," replied Mulch2 and got into the Jeep after Patrick.

o o o O O O o o o

"So, how come there're two of you?" Juliet asked as soon as they had got out of the area of Fowl Manor.

"To tell you the truth, Stinker, not even I understand it completely," Mulch1 replied. "I remember having come back to Ireland with Arty, seeing Haven in total chaos…" The dwarf didn't see Artemis waving to silence him and carried on, "I also remember Arty telling me of that horrible chick Delylah and that if his plan – whatever it was – succeeded, then there might be two of me, but… to tell you the truth I didn't really understand why… Never mind, I trusted our little genius and stole a camfoil for him, and shortly after that my other self appeared with no memories of Delylah and chaotic Haven and the camfoil stealing… right, old boy?"

Mulch2 nodded vigorously.

"What happened to Haven? Who's Delylah? And why did you steal a camfoil?" Patrick enquired.

"Doesn't matter, not important at all," Artemis said hastily. "We must concentrate on our saving-Holly mission right now…"

"We'll arrive at Kilkenny in three hours," Butler reminded him. "There's loads of time until then, and I'm curious to hear Mulch's story."

Artemis made a sour expression. "Are you sure you want to hear it? All of you?"

"I definitely want to," said Juliet firmly. "Patrick?"

"Ditto."

Artemis's expression got even more wry and paler as well. "Then I think it's me who has to tell you, not Mulch… not either of the Mulches, that is," he said heavily. "They don't know many things that I know…"

"I'm all ears, Arty," said Juliet.

"Yeah, fire away." Mulch2 nodded.

"Well…" Artemis stared out the window at the lush green landscape flashing by, "last night I got a rather funny email…"

Patrick, the Diggumses and the Butlers listened to Artemis's slightly clumsy retelling of the 'time accident' and by the time Artemis said _'…and it made me realise that my genius isn't the most important thing after all_', all of his listeners were gaping at him, wide-eyed.

"So… that was you, then?" Mulch2 gulped. "The skeleton they were talking about on the TV…"

Artemis nodded, not meeting the others' eyes. He hadn't wanted them to know… he had wanted to keep this a secret… He didn't know when he'd last felt this uncomfortable.

"Whew, never heard anything this morbid before," Juliet commented. "And this is coming from someone who loves watching horror movies…"

"Dad…" Patrick spoke up.

"Yes?" asked Artemis, still staring out the window, deliberately to not meet anyone's eyes.

"I'm proud of you," the boy said simply. "What you did was… the most stupidly heroic thing I've ever heard."

"It wasn't _me_, remember?" Artemis shook his head. "It was my other self."

"It was still you, just in another dimension," Butler said wisely. "And indeed, it was heroic."

Artemis rolled his eyes. "I don't like being called a hero. It just doesn't suit me. I'm a gold-maniac fairy-kidnapper, remember?"

"That was a long time ago." Juliet smiled. "Before you fell for Holly. And your love for her made you a better person."

"Will you please all stop giving me a big head?" Artemis sighed. "I'm currently trying to fight down my inherent vanity and you're not making it easier for me if you put me on such a high pedestal…"

"Honestly… a modest Arty… I never thought I'd live to see that." Mulch1 grinned.

Artemis sent him a withering glance. "Let's not talk about it anymore, shall we?"

"At least not for a while, huh?" said Juliet. "After all, as soon as Holly sees the 'Diggums Twins', she too will demand an explanation."

"I'd rather she didn't," the Irishman replied darkly. "Patrick, could you make up something… a cover story we could tell Holly without mentioning the parallel universe? I just can't find it in my heart to tell her about… Delylah."

"Why, what's wrong about it?" wondered Mulch2. "You had a nasty wife in your other life. So what?"

"So what?" Artemis snapped. "I slept with that bitch, even when I remembered Holly! I cheated on Holly!"

"You did not." Patrick shook his head. "You were forced to do her bidding if you wanted to stay out of prison to have a chance to save Mum."

Artemis hid his face in his palms to close out everyone's curious glances. "Don't tell me that shagging Delylah too was heroic…" he whispered, not even expecting an answer.

"Sometimes it's not the act that matters but the intentions," Patrick replied calmly, reaching out to put a hand on his father's hunched back and gently patted it. "Your intentions were good.

Artemis suddenly looked up, his face pale but determined. "Still, I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Okay, let's talk about something else, then," Juliet said brightly. "Pat told me you came with him and Arty to Fowl Manor but you left shortly after, Mulch. Did you visit your Opal in Haven?"

"Which one of us are you asking?" wondered Mulch2.

"The one who refused Granny's cookies, I presume," Patrick said.

"That's me, then," Mulch2 said. "And no, I haven't visited Opal… Had other things to do. And then I ran into my other self and we had suddenly so much to talk about…"

"Like the funny indigestion you had?" Artemis arched an eyebrow at both dwarves.

"Well…" The two Mulches looked at each other. "That doesn't matter. It's gone," said Mulch1.

"For me too," agreed Mulch2.

"Why do I have a feeling that you're keeping something a secret from us?" Artemis said sharply.

"I don't know, why?" Mulch2 shrugged. "And you, Mulch?"

"Dunno… Arty's imagining things," Mulch1 replied with an innocent expression.

"Right, I think I can see a halo around your heads," Patrick told the dwarves with a smirk.

"Yeah, but ours isn't as bright as Arty's, is it?" commented Mulch1.

Seeing Artemis's annoyed expression in the rearview mirror, Butler knew that it was time to change the subject. "So, what do you think of today's weather?"

o o o O O O o o o

_Cesare Cavalieri's manor near Kilkenny_

Johnny the Bulky was standing before the front door of Signor Cavalieri's manor with a grim expression on his face. He had learned and exercised this grim expression for years and years to be able to give the image of a perfect guard.

Usually guarding duty was utterly boring and completely uneventful. The only interesting case that had happened in the last two years had been the bride's flight. Cavalieri's girlfriend, that bad-tempered Hungarian woman had been beside herself with anger when she realised that their captive had fled and she'd been screaming insults at all the guards, Johnny included.

Truth be told, Johnny still didn't know how their captive had managed to escape. It was simply beyond his mental abilities to guess – but it wasn't surprising: after all, there were many-many things that were beyond his abilities to comprehend.

The 'bride' had fled two days ago, and today it seemed that something was happening again. Johnny was puzzled, because in his earlier time spent as a guard only one or two 'interesting' things happened in a year, and now several things were happening in just a couple of days.

For example, his master and mistress had left with most of the guards just an hour ago. They seemed to be in a hurry and some of them were muttering about 'Jedi robes'. Johnny didn't have the slightest idea what an archaeologist and his hysterical assistant could want Jedi robes for unless they were about to attend that Star Wars fan meeting. Weird, to say the least! Not to mention that our noble guard was annoyed that he hadn't been chosen by Signor Cavalieri to accompany him to that fan meeting. Johnny was a huge fan of Star Wars. He liked every weapon and ship in it: everything that flashed, gave threatening roars and blasted things. His favourite was the Death Star for its ability of exploding whole planets. He had been downright angry with Luke Skywalker when he'd destroyed the Death Star…

All in all, Johnny the Bulky was having a strange day.

And now, to make this strange day even stranger, a Jeep turned into the alley that led up to the manor.

Johnny had never seen anyone arrive in a Jeep before. Surely it wasn't Signor Cavalieri or Mistress Emese…

The guard watched as several people got out of the vehicle: first a red-haired boy of about twelve years, followed by a black-haired young man in his twenties. Then came two tiny fellows both of whom emitted a funny smell that Johnny could smell even at a distance (he suspected it was sunscreen), and finally a woman with glorious, blonde hair and innocent, wide, dreamy blue eyes.

The driver remained in his seat.

"Stick your eyes back into their sockets, Pal," the pretty blonde woman said as she traipsed up the stairs to where the guard was standing.

"Who… who are you? And what do you want here?" Johnny asked, trying to look as grim as possible, but with a beautiful creature like this blonde angel in front of him, his features refused to be as grim as he would have liked them to be.

"I am the son of Mr Cavalieri's friend, Artemis Fowl the First," the young man with black hair said. "And I would like to speak with Mr. Cavalieri."

"Sorry, Mr Fowl, but Signor Cavalieri isn't home."

"Then perhaps his assistant?" asked the red-haired boy. "He does have an assistant, right? A female one?"

"Y… no. He doesn't have an assistant. Why do you think he does?" Johnny said quickly. He remembered that Miss Emese's presence was supposed to be kept a secret. He didn't even know the woman's family name (nor did the other guards); she was such a BIG secret!

"Tell the truth, Mr Guard," the young boy said in a sweet voice. Johnny had never heard such a wonderful, mellifluous voice! He had never wanted to reply to any question so much before!

"Miss Emese isn't here either," he said simply.

"Oh, good boy. So this Emese person is Cavalieri's assistant," the boy concluded. "And if they aren't here, what about that red-haired woman they are keeping captive here?"

"She isn't here either," the guard said.

"Did Cavalieri and his assistant move the prisoner to another place?" the boy enquired.

"No. The prisoner escaped."

"Escaped?" gasped the black-haired man. "When did she escape?"

"Two days ago. The Mr and the Missus have been beside themselves with anger ever since… but today they must have found out where the red-haired girlie went because they decided to go somewhere with many guards, perhaps to recapture her or something…" Johnny said helpfully.

The young man and the boy exchanged a glance.

"Do you know where they went?" the boy enquired.

"Not exactly, but I have an idea… they wanted Jedi robes, see…"

"Jedi robes?" one of the smelly little men grunted. "Why would they need such a thing?"

"Er… dunno. Perhaps they want to go to the Star Wars fan meeting?" Johnny shrugged.

"Star Wars fan meeting?" the black-haired man said with an incredulous expression.

"Could be, Arty. There's the Annual Meeting of Irish Star Wars Fans in Drogheda right now," the blonde angel replied.

"But what would Holly be doing there?" the young man demanded.

"No idea…"

"Well then, thank you for the information, Mr Guard," the red-haired boy said, his blue eyes boring into Johnny's.

"You're welcome." Johnny grinned. What a delightful thing it was to help people!

"And now, you will forget that we were here," continued the boy. "No one was here while your masters were away. You didn't tell anyone about anything."

"I didn't tell anyone anything…" Johnny echoed the boy's words. "Er… what didn't I tell anyone? And who is the anyone I didn't tell anything?"

Five minutes later when another guard who had been patrolling inside the building came to change places with Johnny, he found the bulky man gazing at the fake-marble steps with an empty expression.

"Hey, you all right, old guy?"

Johnny looked up and said dreamily: "Nice to see someone at last. I haven't seen anyone all morning. It's been rather dull… wish I could have told someone something, but no one came along…"

o o o O O O o o o

"Escaped! Hah! That's my girl! She escaped!" Artemis said with an enraptured expression on his face as he sank into the soft back seat of the Jeep.

"That's great, Artemis, but we don't know where to look for her now," Butler said. "And the question arises: if she escaped two days ago, why hasn't she come back to Fowl Manor yet?"

"I think she must have thought the manor was bugged or something," Patrick replied. "And we _know_ where she is… or at least we have a suspicion."

"But… a Star Wars fan meeting?" Butler shook his shaven head in disbelief. "What would she be doing there?"

"I don't know," Artemis said. "But perhaps someone else knows it."

"Foaly?" suggested Patrick.

His father nodded. "If Holly indeed thought that Fowl Manor was bugged, she would have tried to contact Foaly at least, don't you think?"

"Sounds logical. Let's contact Foaly then, shall we?" the boy replied.

Artemis fished his laptop out of its safe compartment and opened the secret channel to Foaly.

The centaur's face appeared on the screen, this time quicker than any time before when Artemis or Holly had tried to initiate a conversation.

The centaur looked excited, exhilarated and livid at the same time. "Fowl!" he yelled. "What the d'Arvitting hell were you thinking, eh?"

"Is Commander Root dead by any chance?" Artemis said.

"Why?" Foaly blinked.

"Because you seem to be channelling his spirit…" Artemis replied. "What exactly did you mean by 'what the 'd'Arvitting hell was I thinking'?"

The centaur's face reddened again. "It's 17th July, Fowl! The 17th! You were supposed to go back in time on the 15th, and return on the 15th and immediately contact us! But no! You thought you had all the time in the world and let poor Foaly go mad with worry about you and Patrick!"

"And me?" Mulch1 stuck his face before the screen. "Weren't you worried about me as well?"

The centaur rolled his eyes.

"And what about me?" Mulch2 too stuck his face before the screen.

Now Foaly, instead of rolling his eyes, looked like someone who had just been struck by a lightning. "Diggums! What the… what the… why are there two of you?"

"A little time-accident," Artemis said. "That's what delayed me… but let's talk about it later. Now tell me, has Holly contacted you after she escaped?"

"Oh, so you know she escaped?" Foaly said sharply.

"Just found out," Patrick replied. "And we heard something about a Star Wars fan meeting and we were wondering if Mum really went there…"

"Well, she did." Foaly shrugged.

"But why?"

"Because the three blokes who gave her a lift were going there. I suggested to her she stay away from Fowl Manor as long as you were abroad. So, for the time being, our Holly's sitting at a conference centre in Drogheda, dressed up as a Jedi Knight. I've been watching the live broadcast for over a day now. It's fun, really."

"Soon it won't be that much fun," Artemis replied darkly. "Cavalieri, his female accomplice and several of their gorillas are en route to Drogheda to recapture Holly. They are even going to get Jedi robes to be able to mingle with the fans."

"Ouch. That's not good news…" The centaur grimaced. "I've got to tell Julius. He might decide to send some fairies there… or not. If it came out that Holly was living happily as a Mud Woman, there'd be a HUGE scandal. I think you'll be on your own, Arty. I'm supporting you from here."

"Thanks for nothing," Artemis grunted and before Foaly could answer, he ended the call.

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N:** yeah, not exactly an exciting chapter, just a bridge one. Hopefully the next one you will find more exciting.

Also, I know that the acorn needs to be picked at full moon, but let's imagine it is going to be full moon the following night, or it was full moon the previous night, so the acorn still works :)

**Review, please!**


	21. Miracle

**A/N: review responses sent out as usual.**

**Also thanks to: _LettuceNPudding, Lumos2000, Longsworder, refloc, Fleury, cokkii, septempopuli, Silver-head-angel, Zodokai, SPG inc., WiseAbsol, The OddBird, hello, Queen Dragon, 1st female LEPrecon, frenchpiment, -Love-You-Always-And-Forever-, J. Dawnwolf, an-angel-in-hell, Chibi Binasu-chan, The Flying Moose, Koru-chan, shadow-slade, annie-morphs, nandhp, sudenkorento, Rachel, LostFairy815, drugged-on-chocolate_**

**Chapter 21**

**Miracle**

_Root's office, Police Plaza_

"You look worried, Julius," Wing-Commander Vinyáya perceived, sipping her nettle tea. The commander was sitting behind his desk, in the centre of a cloud of smoke issuing from his fungus cigar. The small visible part of his face revealed concern.

Root sighed and shook his head. "I can't help it, Annie… still no news on Fowl. What if that idiotic Mud Man got himself killed in the past? Holly would be broken. It's her husband, the father of her children…"

"And you've grown fond of Fowl too, haven't you?" Vinyáya said with a small smile.

Root shrugged. "He isn't that evil after all, you know… He sacrificed his genius to save the world. I wish I could still detest him like I detest every Mud Man, but… I can't help it. I can't detest him anymore."

Vinyáya reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "He'll turn up sooner or later, don't worry. That Mud Man has so far succeeded in everything he tried, including kidnapping Holly…"

Julius looked up to see a mischievous grin on the wing-commander's face. "Yeah, I suppose he did." Instinctively, he reached out and put his other hand upon Vinyáya's. She didn't seem to mind. They remained like this for seconds or minutes (neither of them knew how long), lost in each other's eyes. Vinyáya's eyes radiated warmth and encouragement; Root's eyes radiated gratefulness for having her there to lift his spirits. Suddenly the door of the office burst open and Foaly galloped in.

Commander and wing-commander jerked their hands back and averted their glances from each other, trying to look very interested in various objects like an ashtray or a stack of data cards.

"Oho! I saw that," the centaur said with a toothy grin, closing the door behind him. "Julius and Annie sitting in a tree…"

"Will you SHUT UP?" Root barked at him. "And next time do knock before you burst in on me like that!"

"Next time, I won't have news on Fowl, so I won't have any reason to burst in on you," Foaly replied.

"What?" Root hopped up from his seat. "News on Fowl?"

"Yeah. He's back from Hungary. So is Patrick. And Mulch. And Mulch."

"You were repeating things, did you know?" Vinyáya said with an amused expression. "You said Mulch twice."

"Because there's two of him." The centaur shrugged. "Anyway, Fowl's just been to some Cavalieri guy's manor near Kilkenny – that's where Holly had been kept by her kidnappers. It seems so that Cavalieri and his female accomplice, plus several of their gorillas went to the Star Wars fan meeting. They must've found out somehow that Holly's there too. There's going to be a scrap for sure, so some fairy involvement might be useful. Just a thought of course, you decide about that, Julius."

For a few seconds Root just stared at the centaur unblinkingly, then said: "_What do you mean there's two of Diggums?"_

o o o O O O o o o

"We'll have to get costumes, I hope you know that," said Juliet as they were driving away from Cavalieri's manor.

"We do?" Artemis frowned.

"Yep. I've heard about this Star Wars fan meeting, and you can enter for free, but you've got to be dressed up as someone from the movies."

"Just what I need," Artemis sighed. "To look like a complete idiot. Where do we get costumes for it?"

"One of my old schoolmates has a costume rental shop in Dublin. I bet she has something we could use to pass as Star Wars characters."

"I'll be Ben Skywalker," Patrick said enthusiastically.

"Who?" Mulch1 blinked.

"Luke Skywalker's son in the Extended Universe books. He has red hair and blue eyes just like me. I won't even need Jedi robes because the little bloke decided he didn't want to be a Jedi. He has a great Force potential but he rejects the Force because he's afraid of it."

Artemis gave his son a surprised glance. "I never knew you read any Star Wars books."

"Well, not all of them, as there are over a hundred, but at least fifty." The boy shrugged. "Don't look at me like that, Dad, I'm a child after all!"

"Whew, I never thought I'd hear a line like that from our little Pat," Mulch2 commented.

Giving the dwarf a withering glance, Patrick continued. "Besides, there are loads of adults who love Star Wars. Actually, I think there are more adult SW fans than children. So no one can accuse me of being infantile if I like stuff like that…"

"No one was accusing you of being infantile." Artemis shook his head. "I was just surprised that you liked things like this… I never did. I read physics books even as a child, and never any fantasy, save Lord of the Rings-"

"…And Harry Potter. Mum said you read that one too."

"But not as a child, I've only read it recently. I was curious to find out what everyone loved about it…"

"And did you manage to find out?" asked Juliet, grinning.

"Not really. That Harry seemed emotionally unstable to me. That Ron was a complete idiot. Only Hermione is worth mentioning. And well, perhaps Voldemort. I can't help, but his young self sometimes reminded me of _my_ young self…" Seeing everyone's appalled expressions, Artemis's lips tucked into a smirk. "Well, he was dark-haired, handsome, ambitious, clever…"

"Sorry, Dad, but you can't dress up as Voldemort. You could be Han Solo, though. He's tall and handsome, after all," Patrick suggested.

"What? Solo's a rogue!" Artemis said with utter contempt. "A smuggler!"

"Well, you used to smuggle weaponry in your other life," Mulch2 pointed out.

Artemis gave the dwarf an icy glance. "All right, I'll be Han Solo, but you two Mulches, will be Jawas. That's the only thing you can pass as in the Star Wars universe."

"Jawas? Gladly," replied Mulch. "I always wanted to have eyes that look like a pair of light bulbs…"

o o o O O O o o o

_Root's office, Police Plaza_

"I'm coming," said Vinyáya. "Don't even try to dissuade me, Julius! You can't go alone, and you can't send any other LEP fairies to Drogheda because it would mean telling them about Holly's real whereabouts. I take it you don't want everyone to find out that she's married to Artemis Fowl?"

"Of course not," Root sighed. "Are you sure you want to come?"

The wing-commander gave him a cheeky grin. "Certainly. I've never been to a Star Wars fan meeting before… besides, I'm getting rusty, I badly need some fight. And I haven't _mesmerised_ anyone for over a decade! You can't deny me the chance…"

Seeing Annie's pleading expression, Root couldn't help but nod. "All right, then, we're going together and kick some Mud Man arse. Besides… I like Star Wars too."

Vinyáya grinned back at him, then her grin faded to be replaced by a concerned expression. "But Julius… how are we going to get in there? Isn't that fan meeting held in a Mud Man building?"

"Yes, it is, but I've watched the live broadcast for a few minutes and they showed the entrance for three or four seconds. There was a huge sign put on the outside of the building, saying '_Welcome to the 27th annual meeting of the Irish Star Wars Fans'. _And as long as we consider ourselves Star Wars fans, we are welcome there…" Root said with a wink.

"Ah, yeah. Definitely." Vinyáya nodded, smiling. "I so love loopholes like this… I'll go and fetch a pair of mind wipers, in case we need them…"

o o o O O O o o o

By noon Artemis, the Butlers, Patrick and Mulch were sitting in the Jeep, all wearing Star Wars outfits that Juliet's friend had provided them with.

Artemis felt horribly ridiculous in leather pants and a fake blaster at his side and longed for his fine and comfortable Armani suit.

"So, got a plan, guys?" asked Juliet, admiring her Princess Leia-like hairdo in a pocket mirror. It looked nice on her, save that her hair was blonde not brown like Leia's. But as there were no blondies in the Star Wars movies, she couldn't think of another costume.

"Well…"

"I've got one," said Patrick. "A back-up plan, actually. In case Cavalieri's musclemen catch us. But even if they don't, we should deal with them somehow… we can't let Cavalieri and his little girlfriend tell people about Mum being a fairy, can we?"

"Of course not." Artemis shook his head. "What's your plan, Son?"

"Give me your wristwatch," the boy said. "Juliet, I expect there's a screwdriver somewhere in the Jeep, right? I'll need one."

"What do you want to do with my time machine?" enquired Artemis.

"First install a tiny microphone in both yours and mine so that we can communicate through it in the conference centre in case we lose each other in the crowd – I don't have a cell phone after all. Second: tamper a bit with the time travel function in both yours and my time machine."

All the others exchanged confused looks.

Patrick looked at his father with an innocent expression. "I hope you don't mind if I ruin them a bit?"

"The time machines? Well… no. Not really," Artemis said, not having the slightest idea why the boy would want to ruin the time machines. But Patrick was a genius, and a genius of Fowl blood, so Artemis couldn't help but trust his son's judgement. Besides, he didn't see himself ever wanting to travel in time again… Upsetting the time-space continuum once had been just enough. "Here." He handed his 'watch' to his son. "And now tell me your plan."

A devilish smile spread on the boy's face. "Then listen to this…"

o o o O O O o o o

_Annual Meeting of Irish Star Wars Fans, Conference Centre, Drogheda – a few hours later_

Holly stifled a yawn. She didn't remember when she'd last felt this tired. _Must be because of the pregnancy_, she thought, but she knew she was fooling herself. Truth was that she had barely slept the previous night, just like the night before the previous night. Two nights before she had escaped from Cavalieri's manor and barely slept two or three hours in the little room her new 'friends' had rented in a pension near Dublin. The previous night she had spent in a nearby hostel with the three Star Wars fanatics, and as those three had constantly been talking about how great it had been to get Peter Mayhew's autograph, Holly couldn't fall asleep.

Since the fan meeting lasted three days, those, who wanted to stay all along, had long before booked rooms in nearby hotels, pensions and hostels. So did Doug, Jerry and Nate. The landlady of the hostel where they had stayed last night had told Holly that every single hotel room in Drogheda had been rented by Star Wars fanatics. "I don't understand them, these fans!" The landlady had shaken her grey-haired head. "What's so great about ugly spaceships and glowing swords?"

Holly, who wasn't a real Star Wars fan but liked the movies enough, didn't want to comment and just nodded friendlily. The landlady had struck her as a person who watched Mexican soap operas hours on end and people like that usually found science fiction and fantasy utterly horrible.

Early in the morning, Holly had returned to the conference centre with the three men, trying to look less drowsy than she was feeling. But she was indeed fooling herself if she tried to persuade anyone that she wasn't about to fall asleep any second.

Her eyelids were drooping as she listened to a live interview with Peter Mayhew who had once played the Wookiee Chewbacca. He had been invited by the Irish fans as the guest of honour.

Not understanding what could be so interesting about asking a one-time Wookiee stupid questions about his unusual height, Holly yawned.

"Hey, you're going to fall asleep on us, girl," Jerry said. "Buy you a coffee?"

"No thanks, Jerry. I'm not sure it's advisable to drink coffee in my condition," Holly replied. "I'll just go and wash my face in the bathroom, the cool water might wake me up a bit."

She stood up from her seat and headed for the ladies' bathroom through the crowd. Once inside the bathroom, she decided she might as well use the toilet if she had come this far. She stepped into the nearest cubicle, closing the door behind her, not even giving a Padmé-costumed woman a second glance.

A few seconds later someone came into the bathroom.

There was a noise that suggested that something had fallen and a tube of lipstick rolled towards Holly's cubicle, she could see it through the gap under the door.

A long-fingered hand with fingernails painted red snatched up the fallen lipstick.

"_Sorry_," someone apologised. "_Didn't mean to knock your toilet bag off the basin!"_

"_No harm done,"_ the owner of the fallen lipstick replied.

"_Who are you supposed to be, by the way?"_ asked the other woman.

"_An Imperial Assassin_," replied the lipstick-owner in a cold voice. "_There wasn't much of a choice who to come as, was there? There are barely any female characters in Star Wars."_

"_True… That's why there are about a hundred Princess Leia's here. And at least another fifty Padmé's like me…" _The woman dressed as Padmé chuckled_. "If you had red hair, you could pass as Mara Jade. She too was an assassin."_

"_Indeed?"_ the cold voiced woman said, clearly not a bit interested and not having the slightest idea who Mara Jade was.

"_Yes. Haven't you read the sequel books?_" asked 'Padmé' in a surprised voice. "_Well… I can understand you, after all. Some of them sucked. But all those that featured Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade as the main characters ruled! They're the best SW couple ever!"_

"_Yeah, whatever_," said the cold voice, then there were footsteps to be heard, the creak of a door, and silence fell over the bathroom.

Inside the cubicle, Holly stood, blood frozen in her veins.

She knew that cold voice! She'd heard it too many times in the past few days. She'd remember it for a lifetime! How many times had this voice tried to goad her into telling the location of the Hun king's grave! How many times had this voice gloated to her about having a secret source of information at Fowl Manor!

And that hand! The only female Holly had ever seen wearing such vivid red fingernails was Emese. Yes, sometimes even that little tramp Lili Frond had worn extreme coloured fingernails, but never this horrible shade of red.

_She's here, _Holly thought to herself with horror_. She must have found out I'm here otherwise she wouldn't have come! What if Cavalieri's here too? And his guards? What if they're hunting for me? I've got to get out of here, as soon as possible! Oh, d'Arvit, why can't I shield when I really need to?_ She nervously ran her fingers across her red locks. _Okay, calm down, Holly. Nothing's lost yet. They don't know that I know that they are here. I have an advantage over them. And I know that Emese dressed up as an assassin while she doesn't know what I am dressed up as… Or does she? And what does an assassin look like?_

With a sigh, Holly pulled the cap of her Jedi robes over her head, trying to conceal as much of her face as possible. If only she could get out of the building, then she could go somewhere with an Internet connection and contact Foaly to ask him whether Artemis and Patrick had returned yet…

_And what if he says that they haven't?_ Fear clutched at her heart. It had been two days since they had left for Hungary, and even though two days weren't much, not having any news on her husband and son was sheer torture for Holly. Not to mention that she was being hunted by a group of gorillas now. And she didn't even know what those gorillas were dressed up as. They could be Jedi or Wookiees or Toydarians or Hutts or whatever… For a second Holly was mad at George Lucas for having packed his movies with so many types of idiotic-looking aliens.

_Get a grip, girl! You're a bloody commander, after all!_ – a voice in her head reminded her, and she drew herself up and stepped out of the cubicle. She would get out of this stupid conference centre and away from Drogheda before Cavalieri and his toadies could notice she was gone. If only she could say good-bye to Nate, Jerry and Doug, they had been so nice to her… But it was too risky to return to the crowd.

She exited the bathroom, and instead of going in the direction of cheering voices, she hurried down the corridor in the other direction. There must be a back door somewhere…

The further she got, the less people she met until she reached a completely empty corridor. Now all she had to do was find the back door. Hopefully Cavalieri hadn't sent a few of his gorillas to guard the doors… but Holly wouldn't put it past him to do so.

She heard a door creak somewhere to her right, though still quite far from her. _That could be the back door_, she thought hopefully, and started to walk faster. By the time she reached the place where the corridor bent right, she was practically running, therefore she collided with a man at full speed. The impact propelled her back a few steps and she would have landed on her bum had the man not caught her.

"Holly!"

"Artemis!" she breathed, not believing her eyes. There he was: tall and handsome, his blue eyes shining with surprise and happiness… and he seemed a bit roguish too. Sexily roguish. Perhaps because he was dressed up as Han Solo?

"Are you all right?" he whispered, closing her into a firm but gentle hug.

"Y…yes… I'm all right," she muttered into his neck, relishing the feeling of having his arms around her. His body seemed to be trembling, and she pulled back a bit to see tears glinting in his eyes. He was heroically fighting them back, but she could see them nevertheless. "What's wrong, Love?" She cupped his face with both hands.

He didn't answer just shook his head, his hands closing over hers. For seconds they stood there like that, neither of them speaking, then suddenly he spoke up: "I feared I'd never see you again. I would have died if I lost you…"

"You'll never lose me. I promise. But we've got to get out of here as soon as possible! Cavalieri's here with his gorillas! He's the one who kidnapped me!"

Artemis released her, the look of concerned love disappearing from his face to be replaced by anger. "I know it's him and I know he's here. That's why we've come."

"We? Who's we?" she asked.

"Patrick, the Butlers and Mulch. We parted as soon as we got into the building, trying to find you. We thought that if we stayed together, we'd attract the attention of Cavalieri's gorillas too much. But this way we're just a bunch of fans mingling with the rest of the crowd."

"I see. Nice outfit, by the way." Holly grinned. "Han Solo, is it? Where'd you get it?"

"Juliet's friend got us costumes. We stopped at her place in Dublin. Just got here ten minutes ago. We were worried you'd be caught by Cavalieri by the time we got here, as they had several hours of head-start. I'll ring up Butler now and tell him I've got you." Artemis selected Butler's number from the address book in his mobile phone. A few seconds later the manservant's voice spoke up:

"_Artemis? Where are you_?"

"At some corridor near the back entrance. I've got Holly. Ring Juliet and come here. I'll ring Patrick. As for the Mulches… just find them somewhere. They'll be at the buffet, I expect…"

"_Copy_," said Butler and ended the call.

"The Mulches?" Holly's eyes widened. "In plural?"

"Tell you later," Artemis said and pushed a few buttons on his wristwatch.

"_Yes, Dad?"_ Patrick's voice spoke up, coming from the watch.

"I've found your mother. We're heading towards the back entrance."

"_All right, I'll be there soon_," the boy replied. Artemis could hear the excitement in Patrick's voice.

Artemis cut the connection and turned to Holly with a smile. "Come, Princess, let's get out of here."

Holly slipped her hand into his. "You're starting to act like Han for real, you know… And I'm no Princess Leia, I'm a Jedi Knight if you haven't noticed."

"I have." Artemis gave her a grin as they hurried in the direction where they hoped to find the back entrance. "What happened to your beautiful wedding dress?"

"Got torn and dirty as I escaped from the manor. My friends gave me these robes."

"Your friends? Those Star Wars fanatics who gave you a lift?"

"Yeah. I wish I could say good-bye to them…" Holly's voice sounded sad. "But we can't risk getting caught by Cavalieri's gorillas…"

A look flashed across Artemis's face but he didn't say anything. He didn't know what to do with the 'gorillas' if they happened to meet them, but he knew well enough what to do with Cavalieri and his assistant. And once they were out of the way, the gorillas could be dealt with somehow… either by Juliet's fist or by Patrick's _mesmer._ But they couldn't take chances with the archaeologist and the woman. Those two were too dangerous because they knew about the existence of fairies. Surely they could be mind wiped, but even if they didn't remember the People, they would be dangerous enough – they were greedy (or at least Cavalieri was), and greedy people were dangerous. Artemis knew it only too well: greed had driven him into becoming a gunrunner in his other life, and no doubt that he had contributed to the deaths of hundreds or thousands…

"_I'm nothing like Jon Spiro! He's a cold-blooded killer!"_

"_Give yourself a few years. You'll get there."_

And indeed, Artemis had killed. He'd killed Quartz Quench. He hadn't done that out of greed, though. But in his other life, he had killed thousands of people, even if only indirectly, and had done it out of greed. Cavalieri wasn't that different. If he didn't get fame by finding Attila's grave, he'd find another way. And people like him didn't care how many innocents they bulldozed over before they reached their aim.

No. Cavalieri was too dangerous to just mind wipe him. And if he crossed their path, Artemis wouldn't hesitate to act.

"Almost there," he murmured to Holly. "At least I think. The boys and I came through the main entrance like everyone else, so I don't know this part of the building…"

Holly felt uneasiness fill her heart as she watched Artemis's face. She had seen her beloved Mud Boy several times like this before, and it always meant that he had something in mind… something dangerous. However, before she could question him, they turned right once more, and the sight that greeted them made Holly's heart miss a beat.

Surrounded by six musclemen – all of them dressed as Wookiees – stood Cavalieri (in Jedi robes) and Emese. Sandwiched between them, was Patrick.

To the average people they would have looked like a motley group of people posing for a photographer, but Holly's experienced LEP fairy eyes immediately spotted the half-hidden tiny gun that Emese was pointing at her son's nape from behind.

"Well, well, well, who have we here?" Cavalieri smirked. "Nice to see you, Mr. and Mrs. Fowl. Imagine, we've just run into your little nephew… a family reunion, isn't that lovely?"

"Leave Patrick alone!" Holly hissed, her hands balled into fists.

"Gladly… if you give us the coordinates," replied the archaeologist. "Well, Mr. Fowl? Do you have them?"

Artemis glanced at Patrick, who nodded.

"We do," said the Irishman. "But it's going to be a little difficult to show it to you…"

Emese's eyes narrowed. "Will it be a little easier for you to show them if I pulled the trigger?"

"No need to be rude, Lady," Artemis said. "I just meant that I can't show it to you alone."

"What do you mean by that?" frowned Cesare.

"We stored the coordinates in our wristwatches," replied Artemis. "But for security reasons we decided to split them. Half of the coordinates are in my watch, half in Patrick's."

"Then give me that watch," Cavalieri ordered. "Both watches!"

Artemis hid a grin. He'd known that his father's so-called friend would be greedy enough to want to put his hands on the watches at once. If he suggested to Cavalieri that he'd read out the coordinates, Cavalieri wouldn't accept his offer. Not when his gorillas could hear it and possibly turn on him, knock him out or kill him and hurry off to get Attila's treasures themselves… Well, Artemis wasn't sure whether Cesare's guards knew at all what coordinates their master wanted so badly, but he knew human psychology enough to be sure that a person like Cavalieri would want such important information for himself only. Perhaps he'd share it with his assistant, but with no one else.

Artemis took off his own 'watch'. "You know, you can't get the coordinates if you're holding both watches," he told the archaeologist. "They don't work that way."

"What? Why not?" Cavalieri frowned.

"They're just playing with you, Cesare," Emese hissed. "He's bluffing. He's trying to buy themselves time until the Butlers arrive. I bet they're here somewhere!" She turned to Artemis, her eyes sparkling with fury. "Don't play with us, Genius Boy or my finger might slip and you can say good-bye to your nephew!"

Artemis gave her an amused look. "Why is it so important for _you _to get those coordinates? Isn't that old Cesare who wants to find that grave so badly to become famous? What is in it for _you_?"

"I just want a sword, Fowl," she replied coldly, forcing her voice not to waver. Everyone around could see that she was practically shaking with anticipation, but she was pretending to be composed.

"The Sword of God by any chance?" asked Artemis. "That sword's lost, isn't it? How could you find it if it's not in the grave?"

"It _is_ there," Emese said darkly. "And I'll get it. My rightful inheritance. And you won't stop me, Fowl!"

Holly was looking from her husband to Cesare and Emese, then to Patrick and finally to the guards. She didn't understand what was going on. Her son and husband seemed to be exchanging unspoken words – they seemed to be communicating with their eyes and she didn't know what they were up to. It seemed as though there was some kind of a plan, as if they weren't just winging it… This thought should have calmed her, knowing that her two favourite males in the world must have planned something good like they always did; but she just couldn't calm down.

She examined the guards' faces as well, and they all seemed utterly confused. Apparently they didn't know what coordinates their masters were talking about, and neither did they know anything about a certain Sword of God. Come to think of it, Holly had never heard of it either.

Artemis shrugged. "All right, I won't stop you, Miss, but your own stupidity _may _stop you."

The woman's eyes narrowed even more. "What are you talking about, Fowl?"

The Irishman rolled his eyes. "I told you already. Cavalieri can't hold both watches at once if he wants to get the coordinates. It's because these two watches are very fine-tuned gadgets, and if they're too close to each other – if one person is holding both of them – they interfere with each other. They sort of knock each other out."

"Then you give Cesare yours and the boy gives me his," Emese said. "Do it!"

Artemis handed his own watch to Cavalieri while Patrick took off his with a reluctant expression. Seeing the defiance on Patrick's face, Artemis couldn't help but think that his son was a brilliant actor.

Snatching the watch out of the boy's hands, Emese glowered at Artemis. "If this is a trick, Fowl, you'll be sorry. You'll be very sorry."

"Why would I want to trick you when you're pointing a gun at my s… nephew?" said the one-time genius. "I'm not taking such risks."

"You'd better not," grunted Cesare. "And now quick, tell us what do we do with these?"

"Why in such a hurry?" Artemis arched an eyebrow at him. "Oh, of course, you don't want Butler to arrive here or any of the guests to stop you."

"No guests will spot us, they're all cheering at C-3PO doing cartwheels," Cavalieri snapped, getting more and more nervous by the second. "Now tell me what to do!"

Heaving a theatrical sigh, Artemis nodded. "All right. Put on the wristwatch. You too, Missy. The locator function only works if you're wearing them not only holding them in your hands."

Emese handed her gun to one of the guards, motioning him to point it at Patrick in case the boy wanted to do something funny; then she fastened the watch around her wrist. She examined it. "What now, Fowl?"

"Press the blue button first," Artemis said.

Both Emese and Cesare did so. A series of numbers appeared on the tiny screens set into the watches.

"And now? These can't be the coordinates!" Miss Hunfalvy huffed.

"Because they aren't," the Irishman said helpfully. "The numbers on the screens are random ones. They always appear before you push the red button. They only mean that the watches are ready to display the locator function."

Cesare stared at Artemis with a befuddled expression while Emese gave him a suspicious look.

"And now, push the red button – and do it at the same second, and then the locator feature appears," the Irishman said. "But you really have to push it the same second, otherwise the program will think that someone's tampering with it and will delete the stored data. I expect you don't want that to happen…"

"If this blows up, Fowl…" Emese hissed, only to be silenced by a wave of Artemis's hand.

"It would mean that my nephew blows up too. He's standing too close to you. He's too precious for me to lose just to do away with scum like you, Miss… I still don't know your name…"

"And you won't even know it," the woman growled. "Ready, Cesare?"

The man nodded. "Three… two… one… push!"

Cavalieri and his assistant pushed the red buttons at the same second.

The next instant the guards gasped, and so did Holly.

"What the…?"

"Master? Where's our master?"

"You blew up our master and mistress!" one of them growled, pointing his weapon at Artemis.

The problem was that they had had a plan how to deal with Cesare and the woman, but none for the guards.

Suddenly a beam of light tore at the air, hitting one of the guards who immediately lost consciousness.

The other guards looked around, trying to find the source of the attack, but could see no one.

Another beam came out of nowhere, hitting another one of them. This one staggered a few steps before collapsing, and collided with a third one, burying him under himself as he fell.

A fourth and a fifth guard dropped to the ground, and finally only one remained – probably the cleverest of all. Desperate to defend himself, he lunged at Patrick and jerked the boy before himself. "Who… whoever you are, you'll have to shoot the boy first!" he told to the invisible enemy, his beady little eyes scanning the corridor, trying to find the attackers.

"Patrick!" breathed Holly.

Artemis grasped his wife's arm before she could have done anything stupid. A second later Holly saw why Artemis had stopped her – he had seen what she hadn't: that the guard, who was expecting attack from the same direction the previous beams had come from, was staring their way, oblivious to the fact that the Butler siblings had just appeared on the corridor behind his back.

Artemis nodded, as if giving them permission to attack. He knew that even if the remaining guard happened to accidentally shoot Patrick in his attempt to defend himself from Juliet, there were fairies around to heal the boy. Those light beams couldn't have come from anyone else but shielded fairies after all…

Before the guard knew what was happening, Juliet had struck him down. One single blow from her fist at the right place, and he collapsed to the ground, dragging Patrick with himself, but letting his gun fall in the process.

"Nice one, Juliet," Artemis grinned, then bent to help his son up.

"Patrick!" Holly gathered the boy into her arms and hugged him tightly. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Mum," the boy replied, disentangling himself from her embrace. "Is that you, Uncle Julius?" He looked up, addressing the thin air.

Two fairies appeared, hovering two metres above the ground. "Who else?" Root smiled down at the boy.

"Nice aiming, Julius," Holly said, still pale a bit, but she was wearing a relieved smile. "You too, Wing-Commander. Thank you for helping us out."

"Don't mention it." Vinyáya waved. "Oh, and Short, you look quite pretty as a Mud Woman."

"Er… Julius, is she…?"

"Don't worry, Holly, no other fairy knows about your living with Artemis," Root replied with a fatherly smile. "And I trust Annie."

"Thank you, Julius." Vinyáya smiled gently at the Commander.

"Annie? Julius?" Holly raised an eyebrow at the two fairies. "It's true, then…"

"What?" Root frowned.

"Weeeell… Foaly wrote me something about you two dating, but truth be told I thought he was having me on…" Holly grinned.

"Dating? But… we're not… Or… are we, Annie?" Root looked at the fairy woman.

Vinyáya shrugged. "I suggest we go back to Haven and discuss it there… What do you say, Julius?"

Root coloured a bit. "Right. Let's mind wipe these idiots then go back before Trouble or anyone gets curious to know where we are…"

The two fairies fished mind wiping devices out of their backpacks and crouched down beside the unconscious musclemen to relieve them of a few memories.

"Hey, Julius!"

"Hey, Julius!"

Root looked up to see Mulch and Mulch approach. "Oh, no," he groaned. "I thought Foaly was joking…"

"He wasn't," Mulch1 said. "Why, aren't you happy to have two of me?"

Julius decided to ignore the Diggumses and set to work on the guards.

"Artemis…" Holly turned to her husband.

"Yes, honey?"

"Why are there two of Mulch? And what happened to Cavalieri and Emese?"

"There are two Mulches because of a little time-accident," Artemis said reluctantly.

"As to Cavalieri and that woman," continued Patrick, "we sent them back in time."

"Time accident? Send them back in time? What are you talking about?" Holly demanded.

"Let me tell you later, dear. It's quite a long story," her husband said.

"Fowl," Root spoke up as he fastened suction cups to one of the guards' temples. "I hope those two, that Italian man and his assistant, won't interfere with the time-line again."

"Don't worry about that, Uncle Julius," Patrick replied brightly. "We sent them somewhere where they can't influence history."

"Where?"

"About one hundred and sixty million years back in time…" The boy grinned. "Old Cesare's playing chess with the dinosaurs right now…"

"And the woman?" asked Vinyáya.

"We sent her only one hundred and forty million years back in time," Artemis replied. "To make sure that they don't meet…"

"Why not?" frowned Root.

"Because it would be highly uncomfortable if they met in the Jurassic era, and having no other humans to entertain themselves with, they began to have sex…" the Irishman explained. "It could change human history if they founded a family millions of years before humans were supposed to appear on Earth…"

"And they can't come back, can they?" Mulch2 asked.

"No." Patrick shook his head. "I made some modifications on the time machines, remember? I destroyed them enough to be able to accomplish one last journey only. They took Cavalieri and the woman to the Jurassic era, and there, they stopped working."

"It was a brilliant idea," Artemis said, gently ruffling his son's hair. "I'm proud of you, Patrick."

"I've just taken after you, Dad." The boy grinned up at him.

"I think you have a lot to explain to me, Artemis," Holly said, lacing her fingers with his.

"Yes, I know…" Artemis nodded.

"Block wipe done," Vinyáya announced.

"Then we're out of here," said Julius, turning to the Fowl couple. "You two, take care of yourselves, will you? Patrick, you may stay with your parents for a few weeks, but no longer than a month, or people at Haven will be getting suspicious."

"I know, Uncle Julius." The boy nodded.

"Julius?"

"Yes, Holly?"

"You two take care of yourselves too." She gave Root and Vinyáya a meaningful look. "And just so that you know: I'm happy for you."

"Me too!" chimed in Mulch1.

"Yeah, isn't this romantic! Old Julius in loooove!" added Mulch2.

"Shut up Diggums, and go, visit Koboi!" Root snapped at the dwarf. "Foaly tells me she's been phoning him for days, asking about your whereabouts. Though I honestly don't know what she sees in someone like you…"

"I don't know what someone like the charming Wing-Commander sees in someone like you," Mulch2 riposted. "But don't worry, we wanted to visit Opal soon."

"Both of you?" gasped Root.

"Why not?" Mulch1 smirked. "Opal's always had weird taste… bet she'll love a threesome."

The Commander gave the dwarf a patronising stare, then packed the mind wiper equipment into his backpack. "Talk to you later, then."

"Bye," added Vinyáya, and they both shielded.

"What do we do with them?" Patrick pointed at the heap of unconscious gorillas.

"They'll wake up some time." Artemis shrugged. "I suggest we leave them here. And let's get out of here the sooner the better."

"All right, but I'd like to say good-bye to my friends," said Holly. "I owe them that much. And I'd like to introduce you to them."

Although Artemis didn't feel like parading as Han Solo a single second longer than it was necessary, he nodded. They weren't in danger any longer, so why deny his wife a chance to say good-bye to three Star Wars fanatics?

"We'll wait for you in the Jeep," Butler said.

"We won't wait for anyone anymore," announced Mulch1. "We're going to our Opal now."

"She'll be charmed for sure…" Juliet hid a grin.

o o o O O O o o o

Jerry looked up to see Holly approaching with a dark haired man in her wake. "This little visit to the toilet took you long enough. I hope you're not feeling sick or something."

"No, don't worry, I'm fine," she said. "And I'd like you to meet my husband, Artemis Fowl."

"Your husband?" Doug blinked. "The dangerous lunatic?"

"What?" Artemis gaped at Holly.

She chuckled. "No, sorry about that, I had to tell them something…" She turned to the three friends. "I didn't tell you the complete truth, and I'm sorry about that. I was kidnapped by someone – kidnapped from my wedding. And since I didn't know whether I could trust you or not, I came up with the tale that my husband was mad and I had to flee from him… But he isn't mad a bit, and I love him with all my heart." She gave Artemis a loving glance, then turned back to the trio. "Please, forgive me for deceiving you…"

"No harm done, Holly." Nate waved. "We're happy your husband isn't mad and that he found you."

"What about the kidnappers?" Doug asked.

"We do not need to worry about them anymore," said Artemis. "I'd like to thank you gentlemen for taking care of my wife."

"No need for thank-yous, we've been enjoying her company a lot, she's fun to talk to," Jerry replied.

"Um, Doug, if you give me your address, I could send you your robes back," Holly said. "I can't give them back now, as I have nothing else to wear…"

"Never mind that, Holly, and keep the robes." Doug smiled benignly. "You may need them when you come here for the 28th Annual Meeting of Irish Star Wars fans…"

"Er…" Holly didn't want to tell him that she wasn't likely to ever take part in another Star Wars meeting. "Well, thank you, Doug. We're leaving now, I've only come to say good-bye to you all."

"We'll be missing you, girl," said Jerry, and standing up, gathered the fairy woman into a gentle hug. As soon as he released her, Nate embraced her.

"Hey, take care of yourself, and of that baby," Nate told her, and over her shoulder looked at Artemis. "And you fellow, next time take better care of your wife!"

"I'll try," Artemis replied.

"Do or do not. There is no try!" Doug said wisely. "Farewell Holly, and may the Force be with you!"

o o o O O O o o o

"I had to fight down an urge to roll my eyes," Artemis said as he and Holly made their way across the crowd. "Were these three quoting Star Wars lines all along?"

"Most of the time, yes." Holly shrugged.

"Poor baby. It must have been hard to stand it…"

"It wasn't that bad," she said brightly. "I really liked them, they were fun. And who knows? I might come here next year and see them again. You could come too… as Jar Jar Binks, for instance."

He shook his head in disbelief. "For a second, I thought you _meant _it."

"Why, don't you want to dress up as Jar Jar?" She sent him an impish look.

Before he could have answered, someone called his name.

"Artemis Fowl!"

Artemis turned around to see Dr. Po hurrying towards him. He was dressed up as an Imperial stormtrooper, only without his mask. "Artemis Fowl! How nice to see you here, and your charming wife as well! I never knew you were a Star Wars fan!"

Artemis made a grimace. "Funny, neither did I."

"Playing the sarcastic genius again, Artemis?" Dr. Po gave him a reprimanding look.

"Sarcastic yes, genius no," young Fowl replied.

"Huh?"

Seeing the school therapist's confused expression, Artemis shrugged. "I've been in an accident recently, and lost my genius. I'm completely average now. C'est la vie."

"But… but… you, without your genius?" Dr. Po stammered.

"Honestly, I don't care," Artemis said firmly, putting an arm around Holly's shoulders. "I have everything I need to be happy. Will you excuse us, Dr. Po?"

Holly was speechless as they left the gaping therapist behind them. Artemis – telling people he no longer was a genius? And to Dr. Po of all people?

_I have everything I need to be happy._

Did he mean that? – she wondered. Glancing at her husband's peaceful profile as they stepped out of the building into the bright sunlight, Holly couldn't see the slightest sign of bitterness on Artemis's features. He glanced down at her, and his deep blue eyes radiated no sadness, no discomfort, no anger. Nothing but love.

_Some kind of a miracle must have happened_, Holly thought, and caught herself smiling as Artemis opened the door of Jeep for her. She only had to find out what that miracle had been…

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: bad guys taken care of - only two chapters left. Review, please!**


	22. Double Mulch is Double Trouble or not

**A/N:** I'm proud to announce that **my Bartimaeus fic is finished**. I intend to start posting it shortly after I finish posting Sword of God. My Barty fic has 25 chapters and is 188 pages long in Word (size 12, font Times New Roman). So, by page-count, it's a little shorter than The Aztec incident, but barely. It's been a three-month long work, as I started writing it at the beginning of February. This was the second 'quickest-finished' novel-length fic I've ever written (only The Greatest Shame was finished quicker, in about two months - but Shame was even longer, around 300 pages).

Anyway, I just thought I'd let you know, in case you want to read the Bartimaeus trilogy by Jonathan Stroud (or at least its first two books, as my fic is based on the first two books only) before I start posting the fic. You have at least a month to do so ;)

**Review responses sent out, as usual. Also thanks to: _Lumos2000, hogwartscharmed1, blondevil, cokkii, rehilaration, nandhp, athleticsrulz, frenchpiment, J. Dawnwolf, Moon Vampire, septempopuli, Longsworder, Grim Lupine, welovechocolate, Rebel Rose, SPG inc., The OddBird, Koru-chan, Annie-morphs, LettuceNPudding, The Flying Moose, hello, AnnieThePipster, Soccer101, ebtwisty9, Zorndyke, Queen Dragon, Lady Emerald Black, WiseAbsol, mystic weaver _**

**Chapter 22**

**Double Mulch Is Double Trouble… Or Not?**

_Opal Koboi's house, Haven_

Opal was sulking. No matter how many times she had called that idiotic pony, he never deigned to tell her where her Mulchie was, even though she was sure he knew it well. Damn that centaur!

Sometimes she even thought that Mulch had probably got bored of her and decided to escape… At the moment she was having such thoughts again.

_Mulch can't leave me! Especially not now!_ Her tiny hands balled into fists, and she felt she was on the verge of tears. Quite remarkable for someone like her; as she hadn't cried since she was two. Not once. And yet, she felt like crying now. She loved that sodding dwarf and she didn't want to lose him!

_Relax, Opal_, she told herself. _Don't be nervous, it might endanger your health…_

She took a deep breath and exhaled. _Everything's going to be all right. It has to…_

She felt her eyelids droop. Recently she had always been tired. A hazy image of Mulch drifted across her mind as she abandoned herself to sleep.

The creaking of the door woke her up mere minute later. She sat bolt upright on the sofa, her face alert and her eyes radiating excitement. It could only be her beloved dwarf!

"Mulch, is that you?" she called out.

"Who else, luv?" The dwarf burst into the living room with open arms and a wide smile on his face, followed by another madly grinning Mulch. Both of them were wearing funny-looking robes with capes and were hurrying towards her.

For a second Opal didn't believe her eyes. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. "It must be because of my condition," she muttered to herself. "Double-vision all right…"

"What are you talking about, sweetums?" Mulch (the one on the right) flopped down on the sofa next to her. "Are you feeling sick?"

"Why, of course, she missed her Mulchie so much that it made her sick," the dwarf on the left said, sitting down on Opal's other side.

Miss Koboi looked to her right. Then to her left. "I must be very sick…" she whispered, as white as a sheet.

"What's hurting you, honey? Should I kiss it better?" The Mulch on the left offered, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck. Opal shuddered with pleasure and closed her eyes to abandon herself to his kisses. _Yeah, it must have been double-vision_, she told herself, relishing the dwarf's ministrations. _But is there a thing like 'double-feeling'_? – she wondered. Because, however funny it may sound, she felt as though her boyfriend was kissing her neck from both sides. Must be a trick of her mind… She reminded herself that Mulch couldn't have kissed her from both sides at the same time… it was against all the laws of physics, biology and even contradicted common sense!

And still, what she felt was the touch of two pairs of dwarf lips. Both a bit prickly due to his beard, but pleasant, nevertheless.

_A kiss from the right…_

_A kiss from the left…_

_A kiss from… both sides at once!_

Opal's eyes flew open and she stared at the dwarf on her right. "Mulch!" she breathed.

"Yes, dear?"

She turned left. "Mulch!"

"Yes, honey?"

This was too much for her mind to take without getting a short-circuit, so Opal chose the easiest way to switch it off before she could acquire brain damage: she fainted.

o o o O O O o o o

_Fowl Manor_

"Arty!" Angeline ran out of the building towards the little group getting out of the Jeep. "Holly!" She flung herself on her son and daughter-in-law's necks, pulling them both so close they thought they'd suffocate on the spot. "You're alive! You're both alive and fine! Thank heaven!" She pulled back a bit to look at them more thoroughly, making sure that neither of them had suffered any injuries. "What… what kind of clothes are you wearing?"

"We're dressed up as Star Wars fans, Madam," Juliet said brightly. "See, I'm Princess Leia! Dom's a Jedi, and so is Holly. Arty's the dashing Han Solo! Patrick's a… dunno what because he didn't dress up as anything, but the Mulches were Jawas. Too bad you can't see their costumes… they asked us to stop by Tara and got off there."

Angeline gaped at Juliet with an expression that suggested she didn't have the slightest idea what Jedi or Jawas were, let alone Princess Leia… "Well, come in, and quickly tell me what happened! I want to know everything!"

"Not so fast, Angeline," Artemis the First said gently, walking down the stairs into the garden. "They'll want to rest a bit first, especially Holly, she's gone through too much…" He stepped to his daughter-in-law with a remorseful expression. "I don't know if my son told you, but…"

"I know it was you who told Cavalieri I was a fairy," Holly said. "Artemis told me. And I don't blame you, Mr Fowl." She put a hand on the elderly man's shoulder. "Don't blame yourself. Everything turned out all right after all…"

"Yeah, with the exception that you'll never see old Cesare again," Juliet chimed in.

"What? You didn't kill him, did you?" Fowl Senior breathed.

"No, Grandpa," Patrick spoke up. "We didn't harm him in any way… if he gets hurt, then it's not our doing…"

"…but that of the dinosaurs," Juliet whispered to the boy so that the Fowl parents wouldn't hear her. Patrick chuckled softly.

"Well then, let's go in, shall we?" Angeline suggested. "Arty, take off these ridiculous clothes, then take your wife into bed!"

"That's exactly what I was intending to do…" Artemis smirked in a cocky way.

"You know what I meant…" Angeline rolled her eyes. "She needs rest!"

"What I really need now is a wedding night," Holly replied with an impish smile, slipping her hand into her husband's. "We still haven't had it… shall we make up for it, Mr Fowl?"

"Gladly, Mrs. Fowl," Artemis replied, bending down to kiss her lightly on the lips.

"Owww, get a room!" Patrick grimaced.

"We will," Artemis replied, and before Holly could have resisted, he picked her up and started carrying her upstairs.

"Wait, Artemis!" She banged her fists on his shoulders. "Stop!"

"What, honey? Forgot something?"

"Yeah. To give your mum her earrings back." She quickly pulled the diamond earrings out of her ears and held them out to her mother-in-law. "That's the only part of my wedding attire that I managed to keep safe. I hope you find them in perfect condition, Mrs Fowl."

"It's not my earrings I wanted to see in perfect condition, but you, dear child," Angeline said gently, taking the diamonds from Holly. "And please, do call me Angeline."

"All right, Angeline." Holly nodded, putting her arms around Artemis's neck. "Well, Artemis, shall we?"

"Definitely, my beautiful Jedi Knight."

Angeline watched the young couple disappear upstairs, tears welling up in her eyes. She knew she still needed to go a long way before she truly learned to love Holly, but at least she had already accepted her. And acceptance was the first step towards friendship and love. Even though the fairy was almost fifty years older than her, Angeline couldn't help feeling a little motherly towards Holly. And she couldn't wait to feel all grandmotherly towards the baby Holly was carrying…

o o o O O O o o o

"Why did you insist on giving Mother her earrings back?" Artemis asked as they arrived before the door of their room, Artemis still carrying his 'bride' in his arms.

"Weeeeell…" She grinned, reaching out to punch in the code. "You love nibbling on my ears, Mud Boy… And if you did it again, the earring's clasp might have loosened and those horribly expensive diamonds would have been lost in the sheets, or fallen to the floor… I managed to keep them safe while imprisoned and during a perilous escape; I just didn't want to risk losing them now, thanks to my wild-in-bed husband…"

"But you don't mind my wildness, do you?" Artemis asked with a grin, stepping through the door that automatically sealed behind them.

"Did I ever look like someone who minded it?" she whispered, leaning closer and catching his lips in a kiss.

He gently lowered her to the bed, unfastening the belt that held her Jedi robes together. To his surprise, she wasn't wearing anything but a pair of tiny knickers under it. He never thought he'd ever see a half-naked Jedi…

"So, Mr. Solo, what are you waiting for?" she said in a husky voice, catching his leather vest and pulling him down to her. Their lips again met in a kiss, and he shivered with desire…

Then pulled back. "No," he breathed.

"No what?" She frowned.

"I…" Artemis bit into his lower lip, then, seeing Holly's quizzical expression, he quickly stood up and turned away from her. "I just… can't… I can't do it without telling you… _Before_ telling you…"

"Telling me what?"

Nervously running his hand across his black locks, he turned around to face her. "Everything. About the time machine. The Mulches. Things you need to… that you _deserve_ to know."

Holly knitted her eyebrows. "I thought you wanted to make up for our wedding night first. Not that I'm not curious to hear why there's two of Mulch, but… I thought it could wait."

"It can't." He shook his head with a serious expression. The last time she'd seen him wearing an expression like this was shortly before he gave up his genius to the Voice. "I can't kiss you, hold you, make love to you knowing that you might not even want to do it if you only knew…"

"If I only knew what?" she whispered. Her husband's expression scared her. It was so full of emotions: love, fear, hope, shame… He desperately wanted to tell her something, but was having difficulties how to do it. All she could do was to make it easier for him – to calm him, to help him feel more comfortable about whatever he wanted to share with her. With a gentle smile, she held out her arm towards him. "Come, sit back down here, and calm down… then tell me everything you think I ought to know."

Artemis hesitated for a while, inspecting his wife's features. Her eyes radiated warmth, encouragement and a little bit of angst. Her arm was still held out towards him; and finally, he took her hand and sat down next to her.

"Well…" He stared down at their intertwined fingers, not daring to meet her eyes. "It all began with an email I received from your kidnappers…"

o o o O O O o o o

Holly didn't know how long she had been staring at him silently. It could have been seconds, minutes or half an hour… she didn't know. It was simply too much to take…

So _that_ was why she'd disappeared from the conference centre for a second! Now she understood it. She understood everything. The missing pieces of the jigsaw puzzle had fallen into place. Finally she had a complete picture, and it was beautiful and horrifying at the same time.

"Holly?" Artemis whispered, nervously scanning her features. "Are you all right?"

Mutely, she nodded.

"Listen, if you want to leave me after this, I… I understand."

"What are you talking about?" She blinked.

"You don't want to leave me?"

"Why would I?"

Artemis heaved a sigh of relief. "I was afraid you'd be mad… or at least disappointed… because of… Delylah."

Holly reached out to caress his face. "I never thought I'd ever call you naive… but this was the cutest display of naiveté I've ever seen. Cute, but… _dumb_. How could you ever think I'd leave you just because you – in a parallel universe – slept with your wife? How could I blame you for trying to change history back? You risked more than anyone I know ever did, and you came out of it triumphant, even if you… well, even if _the Other Artemis_ died in the process. You… he – well, _you_, gave up your genius once again, to get back those you loved… and it's… it's… simply wonderful." By now tears were glinting in Holly's eyes, but those weren't tears of grief but those of happiness. "What you did was amazing, Artemis, and I'm very, very proud of you."

A relieved, almost elated smile spread on the Irishman's face. "I'm so happy you're not mad… I couldn't have lived with the thought of you harbouring a grudge against me… I love you so much, Holly…"

"You don't even need to tell me that, not with words… Your actions expressed it better than any words could." She reached out and slipped her arms around his neck, burying her face into his chest. She was home. Not in Haven, not among the fairies, but in her husband's arms. Her favourite place in the world. "Artemis?" she murmured into his shirt.

"Yes?"

"How long do you intend to make me wait for our wedding night, huh?"

Looking down at her, his lips tucked into a kinky smile. "Not a second longer, Mrs. Fowl."

o o o O O O o o o

_The garden of Fowl Manor, a week later_

"Artemis, you can't do that to that unfortunate agency," Holly said in a reprimanding voice, sitting on a blanket that they had put on the grass. She, Artemis, Patrick, Juliet and Butler were having a picnic to celebrate Juliet's 30th birthday. The elderly Fowl couple were away in Spain where Artemis the First was hoping to make a very favourable deal.

"Why not?" Artemis countered. "They sent us a bunch of inept idiots who left the back door completely unprotected, letting that Emese woman kidnap you! Dublin Security will go bankrupt, I'll see to it personally, and don't even try to hold me back! They deserve what they get!"

"I agree with Artemis," Butler commented. "A guard can't be so careless to leave any entrances unattended."

"Exactly." Artemis nodded. "And anyway, half of the money I manage to transfer from the agency's account to my own I will forward to a non-profit organisation that campaigns against gunrunning."

"And the other half to Unicef or WHO," Holly said firmly. Artemis made a grimace. Apparently he'd been planning to keep the other half...

"All right, then, the rest goes to Unicef," he sighed. "Patrick will help me with the hacking this time, I'm not as good at it as I used to be."

"No problem, Dad." The boy grinned. "I'm glad to be of help."

"I still don't like this…" Holly shook her head. She would never understand men with their delusions that it was a macho thing to avenge themselves.

"Neither do I, but… men will be men." Juliet shrugged.

"What do you mean by that?" Artemis frowned at her.

"Nothing, Arty." The blonde woman waved with a grin. There's no use explaining to men that doing 'macho' things was in most cases completely pointless… they wouldn't understand. "Hey, look, the Mulches are here!"

"Hi there, Stinker! You didn't think we'd forget about your birthday?" The dwarves approached, wearing wide grins and each of them carrying a longish package.

They flopped down on the blanket, and their sunscreen scent immediately filled the nostrils of everyone around.

"Nice to have you here, Smelly." Juliet grinned. "We've waited for you with the cake."

Five minutes later the Mulches were already eating their fourth slice of cake.

"Aren't you afraid of getting an indigestion, Mulch?" Butler said benignly, hoping that with such an innocent question the dwarves would realise that it would be nice if they left some cake for the others as well.

"Nah, I never get indigestion," Mulch1 chomped.

"Never?" Artemis looked up from his own, thin slice of cake. "What about the one you had when the Huns began chasing you?"

"That… well…" Mulch2 scratched his jaw, surreptitiously glancing at the package he had laid on the blanket.

"Can I have one more slice, Juliet?" Holly held out her plate, feeling that the timing was perfect to turn everyone's attention away from Mulch's digestive problems.

"That's your third one already, honey. Aren't you afraid of getting indigestion?" Artemis said in a worried voice.

Holly gave him a withering glance. "I'm eating for two, Artemis!"

"Yes, dear, I know." Artemis leaned closer, gently running his hand up and down on Holly's still flat stomach. She chuckled, and caught his lips in a tender kiss.

Patrick and the Diggumses grimaced, while Juliet held back a giggle.

"Time for present-opening!" Butler announced, forcing the Fowls to end their snogging session. They parted with a pout, feeling very depraved.

The manservant pulled a medium-size package out from behind a nearby tree and handed it to his sister.

Juliet tore the wrappers off it and, her face glowing with excitement, she lifted a pair of boxing gloves out of it. "Ooooh, Dom, I've always wanted a pair like these!"

"Glad you like them, sis."

From Holly, Juliet got a big case of green eye-shadow (she still loved wearing this colour), and from Artemis, a beautiful bow with a set of arrows. "It's not Hun," he said apologetically. "I wanted to bring you something from the past, but… I think I had too much on my mind and forgot. I'm sorry, Juliet."

The bodyguard reached out to squeeze her charge's hand. "No problem, Arty, I really like this one… It would have been nice to have something from the fifth century, but I think I can live without it."

"And who said you _had to_ live without it?" Mulch1 said casually.

Juliet glanced at the dwarf with a confused expression.

"Well, happy birthday, Stinker." With that, both Mulches held out the longish packages they had brought. "We hope you don't mind having two of it…"

"Two of what?" muttered Patrick as Juliet tore the wrapping off the first package. Under the wrapper she found a wooden case. Upon opening it, she let out a gasp.

"What?" Artemis, Holly, Butler and Patrick leaned closer to look into the case. Inside lay a glorious sword whose hilt was inset with rubies.

"I can't believe it…" Artemis whispered. "The Sword of God…"

"Or an impressive fake," Patrick added.

"Fake, eh?" Mulch1 snorted. "It's as real as it can be! As is the other one!" He pointed at the other package that was still covered with wrapper. "I… _we_ brought it… _them_ to the present in person, just for you, Stinker!"

Seeing Juliet's mouth hanging open, Mulch2 shrugged. "Well, _almost_ just for you. Originally we wanted to keep them and sell them later, but then we remembered how much you wanted an original Hun weapon, and we heard you had a birthday…"

"Yeah," Mulch1 agreed. "Certainly, we could have sold one of them, but we realised that if we got caught by old Julius trying to sell stolen items, we could have landed at Howler's Peak again, and we wanted to avoid that at all costs. So there, you have two Swords of God."

Juliet still couldn't find her voice in surprise. Artemis, however, did.

"So that was why the Huns were chasing you! Because you'd stolen the sword out of Attila's coffin!"

"Well, yeah, Arty. Sorry… I'm kleptomaniac," said Mulch2 with an apologetic grin. "Couldn't help it… When I went back to see how the funeral preparations were processing, I spotted Attila's still open triple-coffin and the sword lying on his chest… and simply couldn't resist the temptation. I waited until the Huns closed the coffin and left the tent for a few minutes, and I stole the sword and closed the lid again. But they spotted me as I left the tent, and began chasing me."

"They spotted you carrying the sword?" Patrick frowned. "We didn't see the sword in your hand when you came running towards us…"

"Because you couldn't have seen it." Mulch1 rolled his eyes. "It was well hidden."

"Well hidden?" Holly blinked. "You don't mean… _In there_?" She pointed at Mulch's belly with a disgusted expression.

The Diggumses shrugged. "Couldn't have found a better place for it, could I?" Mulch1 said.

"So that's what gave you an 'indigestion'!" Artemis breathed. "But how on earth did you manage to swallow… the whole thing? This sword is longer than your whole body!"

"I have amazingly strong teeth, you know," Mulch1 said vaguely. "But you know, even in pieces, it was rather unpleasant. The tips poked me from inside for hours… It was horrible."

"You bit it into pieces?" asked Patrick with an incredulous look.

The Mulches nodded.

"But how… how did you put it back together this well? Nothing on the sword suggests that it was broken and put back together!"

"I have a second-cousin who's an excellent blacksmith," Mulch2 replied.

Artemis's eyes narrowed. "How did you manage to fool the metal detector at the airport with all those pieces of iron in your stomach?"

Mulch2 waved with a superior glance. "There's no metal detector on earth that can see through a dwarf's body!"

"Amazing…" Juliet said, "I… simply don't know what to say… how to thank you…"

"No problem, Stinker, I'm glad to see you like it," said Mulch1.

"But I can't keep both." Juliet shook her head. "It wouldn't be proper."

"Do with them whatever you please." Mulch2 shrugged. "It's your birthday present, after all."

Juliet glanced at Artemis, clearly awaiting some advice.

"My old self would say keep both of them or let me sell them on the black market," the Irishman said, "but my new-found and annoyingly righteous self says that it belongs to the Hungarian Republic. Mulch found it in their territory, so it should be theirs. If you want me, I'll send one of the swords to the Hungarian National Museum as an unknown donor."

"That would be great, Arty." Juliet nodded solemnly. "One of the swords goes to the Hungarians, and the other will be hanging on my wall. I love looking at fine weaponry, and this is undoubtedly the prettiest weapon I've ever seen." She picked the sword out of its case and ran her index finger along its blade. "So sophisticated… a true masterpiece."

"It was made by the Lord of Wars, after all." Artemis smiled.

"Lord of Wars? Who's that, some blacksmith?" Juliet asked.

"The god of the Huns," Artemis explained. "According to the legend, whoever owns the sword can conquer the world. I for one think it's nothing but a fairy tale, but… who knows? I'm glad it didn't fall into Emese's hands, though. I don't think she would have managed to conquer the world with just a sword, but she seemed mad enough to stab somebody with it."

Patrick flinched. He still remembered having been stabbed by this very sword. If it hadn't been for his father's love and Fiona's huge heart, he wouldn't be sitting here now.

"Well, she can't stab anyone anymore, can she?" Butler said jovially. "Oh, almost forgot to mention, I heard something funny on the news this morning… While unearthing the skeleton of Tyrannosaurus, paleontologists found human bones among that of the T-Rex, as though it had died with the human in its belly… All scientists are puzzled."

"Are they sure that the human had been devoured by the dinosaur?" asked Patrick heavily. "Could the human bones have got there millennia later?"

"Not very likely, since the dinosaur-skeleton and the human bones are in the same layer," Butler replied. "According to an anthropologist, the pelvis wasn't too wide, therefore it must have been a man. Well, our Cesare used to love finding _old things_… he can't have complained much, you sent him to a place where he found plenty. Of course, getting eaten by a T-Rex isn't a nice death…"

For a few seconds nobody spoke. Juliet reached for a slice of cake and so did both dwarves.

"Imagine," Mulch1 spoke up to break the uneasy silence, "Opal's pregnant."

"WHAT?" Juliet almost spat out her half-chewed piece of cake.

"She's pregnant. Knocked-up. Has a bun in the oven. Do I need to explain more clearly?" Mulch2 said, stuffing a spoonful of whipped cream into his mouth.

"No, just… isn't it weird?" said Juliet with a contemplative expression. "First Artemis and Holly, now you and Opal… and both couples are of different species… what does a pixie-dwarf hybrid look like at all?"

"We'll see in seven months, right?" Mulch1 grinned.

"Well, congrats, Mulch," Patrick commented, barely able to hide his amusement. "And do tell, how did dear Miss Koboi react when seeing both of you?"

The Diggumses chuckled. "You should have seen her, boy! She thought she had double-vision due to her pregnancy… then, when she finally realised that both of us was real, she fainted."

"And after that?" enquired Holly.

"After that, she woke up and we made mad, passionate love." Mulch2 winked at her.

"All three of you?" Juliet raised an eyebrow at the dwarves.

"Yeah," Mulch1 chuckled. "And she loved it. A lucky girl, my Opal… and that little tyke's going to be lucky too, to have two excellent fathers like me."

Artemis's eyes met Holly's, and he could see that she was clutching at her ribcage, shaking with silent laughter.

"Well, congratulations, Mulch," the Irishman said, trying to sound as solemn as possible. "It seems that Opal will have her baby around the same time as Holly."

"Oh, we could arrange baby showers for both of them at once!" Juliet clasped her hands delightedly. "Wouldn't it be fun, Arty?"

"_Baby showers?"_ All the blood ran out of Artemis's face. In the past few months he had learned to swallow his pride on several occasions, but he didn't feel up to something as embarrassing as _that_…

o o o O O O o o o

_Christmas Eve, 2016_

"…I was telling Foaly not to pout too much, but he wouldn't, listen," Julius grunted. "His pride has been hurt by Patrick getting the first prize at the Annual Inventor's Exhibition… But tell you what, I didn't feel sorry about him. He deserved to have his ego deflated a bit!"

"Well, I did feel sorry for him… _a bit_," Patrick added with a mischievous grin. "But he can still be happy to have received the second prize, beating Opal who got third place."

"Why, what did Opal invent?" Juliet enquired.

"And who's Opal at all?" asked Angeline.

"Opal's a stuck-up pixie, and Mulch's girlfriend," Holly replied with a lopsided smile. "Artemis and I must have mentioned her when we told you about our story. Opal helped us in the Mexican jungle, but of course not out of the goodness of her heart, but because I had promised her several years off her sentence if she helped us against her brother. She's a genius, like…" Her glance met Artemis's and he looked away, but the single second their eyes had met had been able to clench Holly's heart. Ever since they'd dealt with Cavalieri, Artemis had been much more carefree than before; he looked happy even without his genius… but Holly knew well enough that deep down it still hurt him. Much less than before, but it did, nevertheless. He was fighting a heroic battle with himself not to show any of it; or perhaps he even managed to convince himself that he no longer minded being average… but Holly saw what not even Artemis himself had seen. "Um… so, Opal's an inventor," she carried on, forcing her smile to return to her face. "And she invented some armband that can make magic-less fairies invisible if they want to disappear. No camouflage foils are needed anymore."

"Quite a good invention," Patrick commented. "I almost felt envious that it hadn't occurred to _me_."

"But your transporter still got first place, so you've got no reason to feel envious of anyone," Root pointed out.

"True." The boy nodded as the door swung open to admit a pair of dwarves.

Angeline flinched at their sight, but Artemis the First gave them a forced smile and invited them to the dinner table.

"Nice to be here," Mulch1 said good-naturedly. "Thank you for the invitation, Mrs. Fowl."

"I didn't…" Angeline began, only to be silenced by a wave of Holly's hand.

"He meant me." She smiled. "I mean, _they_ meant me. I still haven't got used to having two of you, Mulch…"

"Well, we have," Mulch2 replied, reaching for a chicken leg. "And so has Opal. She says she feels like a pampered princess, with two handsome dwarves rushing up and down to fulfil her wishes… and she's got lots of them! Why, last night she sent us to get her ice cream at one o'clock in the morning!"

"Sounds familiar to me." Artemis grinned.

"I never sent you for ice cream at the one a.m.!" Holly protested.

"Yes, you only sent me for a watermelon at four a.m.," he countered.

"No surprise," Patrick said with a smirk. "When I arrived here, you did look like someone who'd swallowed a water melon in one, Mum."

Holly gave her son a piercing look, laying her hands on her bulging belly.

"Well, he's inherited his tactlessness from me, hasn't he?" Artemis kissed his wife gently on the cheek.

"Tactless? Oh, come on…" Mulch2 waved irritably. "Arty isn't tactless at all. But Opal did call _me_ tactless, just because I dared mention she looked like a whale…"

This was when Angeline decided that she'd had enough of the dwarves' presence and excused herself, saying she had a bad migraine.

"Well, good night, mother, and get well soon," Artemis said, completely aware why the woman had decided to leave. "And Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, dear." Angeline bent down to peck her son on the cheek.

"I think I'd better go up too, I'm pretty tired," Artemis the First announced. "Good night to you all."

"Why did they leave?" Mulch1 wondered. "Your mum didn't seem to suffer from a headache and your father didn't seem too tired to me."

"You scared them away," Juliet replied matter-of-factly.

"But I hope you don't mind our company, do you, Stinker?" Mulch2 asked.

The blonde woman shook her head, her eyes glinting merrily. "I never minded having you around, Smelly. Not to mention that I can't thank you enough for that sword… it looks gorgeous on the wall of my room. Doesn't it, Arty?"

"Absolutely, Juliet. I've always admired weaponry from the middle ages…"

Holly shot her son a surreptitious glance and he nodded. Artemis's attention was completely engaged by the discussion with Juliet about the Sword of God. It was time to act.

Patrick pulled a tiny vial out of his shirt and poured a few droplets of it into his father's drink, then hid the vial again. His glance met that of the Mulches, and they gave him the thumbs-up. Even Root's eyes radiated his approval.

Only Butler looked at him, frowning. "Patrick, what did you-"

Holly kicked the manservant in the shin under the table.

"What?" Butler hissed, massaging his aching shin.

Holly pressed her index finger on her lips and winked at him. "Trust me," she whispered, then cleared her throat, turning her husband's attention to herself. "Let us drink to this special evening when we're united as friends here. Years and years ago I was dragged into this house, unconscious and against my will. I hated my kidnapper before I even knew him and swore never to return here if I could help it. Now I'm sitting here as my kidnapper's wife and I love him more than life itself. I can't express with words how happy it makes me to see everyone I care for here, around me, and in peace. Let this be the first in the row of several Christmases that we spend together as friends, as a family. Cheers!"

"Cheers!" said everyone else and they downed their respective drinks: Artemis, Butler, Juliet and the Mulches red wine, Holly, Patrick and Julius mineral water.

"That was a beautiful speech, you know," Artemis murmured, leaning in to kiss Holly. "And I'm the luckiest kidnapper on the face of Earth to have you here with me."

She ran her hands through his silky locks, her eyes never leaving his. "How much is 354x26?"

"9204, why?" he asked casually, then suddenly went rigid. "9204?"

"Exactly," Patrick confirmed.

Artemis turned to his son, his eyes wide with shock. "How did I know that? How… how could I tell the figure in just a second?"

"It's magic." Patrick winked at him.

"What?" Artemis blinked, turning from his son back to Holly. "What… what's happening here? I… I feel so… weird…"

"As if you'd got your genius back?" Juliet fluttered her eyelashes at him.

Artemis's mind reeled. Could it be possible? The Voice had taken his genius away and there was no way it could have given it back to him! And still, he suddenly felt different. Different from the 'average' Artemis. Suddenly he felt he could do anything by just using his brains… solve any riddle, devise the most devious plans… _anything_.

"_How?_" He mouthed to the others, as no voice came out of his throat.

A wide smile spread on Patrick's face. "Thank it to Prince Aladár, Dad."

Artemis knitted his eyebrows. He didn't understand a thing. He was a genius again, and yet, he didn't understand what his son was referring to.

"Aladár mentioned a well to me," the boy explained. "The Well of the Fairy Lady, whose water had magic healing powers. It was said to have the power to restore health and lost abilities. According to Aladár, warriors who got injured in battles and drank from the well's water were healthy in an instant. Women who couldn't bear children drank from it and soon got pregnant. Allegedly there was a shaman too who'd lost his Sight and when he drank from the well, he got his Sight back. The well's in the mountains Pilis. According to Aladár it had dried out a year before we arrived into their camp. So all I had to do was go back shortly before it dried out and bring you some of its water."

"You don't mean you… you went back in time… _again_?" Artemis gasped.

"_We _went back in time," Patrick corrected him. "One of the Mulches and me. We used the time machines that both Mulches still had after the Cavalieri incident."

"Yep." Mulch1 nodded. "Tell you what, it took us quite a while to find that ruddy well… You could express your gratitude somehow, Mud Boy."

"No money, Mulch," Holly hissed. "We agreed it would be a Christmas present!"

"Okay, okay, Spoilsport…" Mulch2 rolled his eyes. "Enjoy your Christmas present, Arty."

Artemis looked around, still unable to speak. His face, however, radiated elation and gratitude. "I…" he croaked, "I just… don't know how to-"

"You're welcome, Dad," Patrick said with a smile.

Artemis suddenly seemed to snap out of his shocked state and knitted his eyebrows. "Don't you ever dare travel in time again, Patrick! You know exactly how horribly dangerous that can be! You could have made a mistake, and we could have lost you! I'm not worth that much!"

"And what about me? You wouldn't have missed _me_?" Mulch1 said grumpily.

Silence fell on the dinner table, only to be broken by Butler's guffaw. "Artemis, oh, Artemis! You sounded just like a father now!"

"Well, that's what I am, aren't I?" Artemis replied, his stare still scolding his son.

"And you're going to be father of two…" Holly said abruptly, clutching at her belly, "…in a few hours, I think."

"What?" Artemis gasped. "But the baby isn't due for another month!"

"Fairies carry their babies for eight months only…" Holly replied, giving him a feeble smile, but he saw well enough that she was in pain. "Chin up, Daddy… it's going to be a Christmas child."

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: yep, only an epilogue left. REVIEW, PLEASE!**


	23. Epilogue

**A/N: yes, dear readers, this is the end. And no, I'm not writing a third part, this remains a duology. I'd like to thank everyone for having supported me throughout Aztec and this fic, your kind words meant a lot.**

**Chapter 23**

**Epilogue**

As white as a sheet, Artemis got to his feet (he had to clutch at the table because his knees were feeling weak all of a sudden) and gabbled to Juliet: "Get Mother! If she's asleep already, wake her up! Hurry!"

"Hold your horses, Artemis, babies aren't born in a minute," Holly said, trying to sound as composed as possible under given circumstances. Her face was still pale but no longer contorted in pain – apparently her first contraction had passed. "I'll be happy if I manage to pop out this little one before sunrise."

"Exactly as Holly says," Juliet commented. "So no need to hurry." Seeing Artemis's blue eyes flash with fury, she added hastily: "Okay, okay, I'm going and getting your mother."

"All right, Holly?" Artemis turned to his wife. "Shall I carry you upstairs?"

She shook her head with a smile. "I can walk, but you look like someone who's about to faint on the spot. I doubt you could carry me in your current state, even if you wanted to… Butler, make sure that Artemis doesn't collapse while Julius helps me walk upstairs."

"But… I don't need Butler's help! I'm not about to collapse!" Artemis protested, even though his knees were still weak. He hadn't expected this baby to be born so early, and especially not on Christmas Eve. He had several times imagined himself at Holly's side when she was giving birth, and every time he imagined he'd be acting brave and giving her all the support she needed; yet now that it was real, he didn't feel any of the bravery the imaginary Artemis had.

o o o O O O o o o

In a few minutes they were up in their room, surrounded by their friends and relatives. Angeline was making a fuss as expected, making both Mulches roll their eyes on a regular basis.

Shortly before midnight Angeline sent out her husband, Butler, Julius and the Diggumses, even though Holly wouldn't have minded having them around a bit longer to entertain her between two contractions.

The dwarves left the room with a piercing stare directed at the Lady of Fowl Manor and muttering 'killjoy'. Truth was that both Mulches would have been glad to have a chance to witness the labour almost to its end to have a clear idea what to expect when Opal was giving birth, but they had been denied the chance.

Angeline was just about to usher Patrick out too, when Holly called out to the boy.

"Patrick," she panted, beads of sweat coursing down the sides of her face.

"Yes, Mum?"

"Tell me… what… what was it like to drink the half-fairy version of the MMM?"

"Why are you asking, Mum?"

A concerned expression spread on Holly's sweat-soaked face. "Did it hurt?"

Patrick bit into his lower lip.

"I have to know," his mother insisted. "If this baby is born and healthy, she will need to drink that serum… Not immediately, of course, but within a year. We couldn't… hide her for years before we make her drink it. I have to know, Patrick. What was it like?"

The boy knelt down by the bed and took Holly's hand. "Don't worry, Mum, it only stung a bit, but it passed quickly. Yes, surely it will make a baby cry, but more with shock than with pain. And it doesn't last long, only a few seconds. It's not worse than a bad stomach ache, I promise. And babies always cry because of stomach aches…"

A feeble smile appeared on Holly's face. "If only I could hear her cry for the first time…"

"You will," Artemis said gently. "Just a little more to go."

"A little? You've got to be kidding." She shook her head. "I'm only at the beginning of this… Ouch!"

Patrick sidled out of the room, smirking as his mother screamed at his father that she'd cook him with a blast from her Neutrino if he ever touched her again.

"Oh, really?" Artemis cocked an eyebrow at his wife once the contraction was over. "I seem to recall you screaming to me to touch you for quite a few times…"

Holly sent him a glance that suggested she'd castrate him on the spot if he didn't shut up.

"Really, Arty," Juliet spoke up, placing a cool, wet towel on Holly's forehead, "if you ever had to give something up again, what would you give up? Sex or your genius?"

Artemis presented her with a vampire smile. "Sex, of course."

o o o O O O o o o

"How are things going?" enquired Root as Patrick exited his parents' room.

"Mum's just threatened Dad she'd kill him if he ever got her pregnant again," Patrick replied with a grin. "So I'd say everything's going fine."

"Yeah, she's a fiery little girl that Holly." Mulch1 nodded. "Just like my Opal…"

"Like _our _Opal," Mulch2 corrected him.

"Exactly," Mulch1 agreed. "And like your girlfriend, Julius…"

"Annie… I mean, Wing Commander Vinyáya isn't my girlfriend, Convict!" Root snapped.

"Oh yeah? And what is she then? Just a colleague whom you send bouquets and love poems three times a week?" Mulch1 said with an innocent expression.

"How…?"

"…Do I know?" Mulch2 finished Root's sentence. "From Foaly. A real gossip, that centaur! If it weren't for him, you might have kept your little romance with Miss Vinyáya a secret, but thanks to him now half of Haven knows, and definitely all of the LEP know."

Root's hands clenched into fists. "I'm going to kill that pony!"

"Don't, Uncle Julius," Patrick said with a smirk. "Life would be too boring without him. And I would have no one to gloat about my technical achievements to… I love seeing his face turn green with envy, you know…"

Artemis Senior shook his head with an indulgent smile. "Artemis couldn't ever deny you're his son."

"Well, he _has_ denied it a few times already when pretending to be my brother." The boy grinned at his grandfather. "But sometimes I so felt like telling people that I was his son… especially that dunderhead Malcolm at the wedding party. Imagine his face when finding out that Artemis Fowl, the most annoying swot in their class was a father at fourteen…"

o o o O O O o o o

Hours passed, and the males waiting outside were getting more and more sleepy and bored, not to mention, nervous. They had no idea how things were going inside the room, as Artemis had had baffle boards installed several months ago and no noise whatsoever came through the closed door.

"Why isn't anyone coming out, just to tell us how things are proceeding?" Butler huffed.

"You know, old friend, you look just as agitated as you were when Artemis was born," the lord of Fowl Manor said with a smile. "I recall you pacing the corridor at Sisters of Mercy Hospital, muttering about inept obstetricians and lazy nurses…"

Butler shrugged with an apologetic glance. "That kid meant a lot to me, even before he was born… I love him as a little brother or a son, Mr Fowl."

"I know that, Butler." Artemis the First patted the manservant on the shoulder. "Arty is lucky to have two fathers, isn't he?"

"And so will be my child," Mulch2 chimed in.

"Exactly, mate." Mulch1 grinned.

"Really, have you been thinking of names yet?" asked Patrick.

"Well, of course." Mulch1 grinned. "Juliet for a girl and Julius for a boy."

"WHAT?" Root gasped.

"No need to thank, Julius." Mulch2 waved theatrically.

"I wasn't about to thank…" Root snapped, but he couldn't finish his sentence because in the next instant the door whooshed open to reveal a beaming Artemis, holding a tiny bundle in his arms.

"Everyone, let me introduce you Diana Angeline Fiona Fowl," he said proudly.

"Awwwwww…" said everyone around, Julius included, as they peered into the bundle.

The baby had pale skin and black hair like her father's, but her ears were a little more pointed than the average human's. Other than that, she could have passed as a human. No doubt the Fowls would be able to disguise her as a 'normal' little girl by making her wear a bonnet before she was old enough to drink the MMM.

"She's adorable," Patrick said, lovingly examining his sister. "How's Mum?"

"She's fine, just fallen asleep," Artemis replied.

"May I hold her a bit? Just a little bit?" Butler asked with a hopeful expression.

"All right, but only if you quickly give her back to me." The young father grinned, and gently passed the baby to his one-time bodyguard.

"I like your name of choice," Fowl Senior said, turning to his son.

"Me too." Artemis smiled. "Holly said she didn't want to call any child of ours Artemis… and she got what she wanted… And _I_ got what I wanted too…" He glanced at the baby nestled in the crook of Butler's arm. "Her name is _almost_ Artemis, after all… just the Roman version."

o o o O O O o o o

Shortly after sunrise, Artemis was standing in the entrance hall, holding his newborn daughter in his arms. She was wide awake, her huge, blue eyes scanning her father's face and the surroundings. And there was so much to see! First of all, that beautifully decorated tree to the left, then those funnily swirling white specks outside…

"Yes, dear, it's snowing," Artemis said gently, stepping to the nearest window. "Beautiful, isn't it? Just as beautiful as you are…" He bent down and kissed the baby's forehead. "You know, for a short time I thought that getting my genius back was the most wonderful Christmas present I could have received… But now I know I was wrong: it's you, Diana. You're my favourite Christmas present ever. I see you're absolutely fascinated with the snow… Just wait a few years, and we'll be having huge snowball fights outside… We'll have so much fun together… Daddy will teach you how to hack into well protected computer systems, for example…"

The baby yawned and someone cleared their throat.

Artemis turned away from the window to see Holly standing nearby, wearing a warm dressing gown. "You're already spoiling that child, Artemis!" she said in a scolding voice.

"Holly… what are you doing up?" he breathed. "You should be sleeping, resting! You've just had a baby, for heaven's sake!"

"And I'm a fairy, remember?" She smiled at him. "My magic healed me in no time. I awoke ten minutes ago to see that neither was my husband sleeping next to me nor was my daughter lying in her crib and I was wondering where you two had gone… And I find you in the freezing entrance hall, promising our daughter to teach her how to break the law. I should be mad at you, Artemis Fowl!"

He grinned at her. "But you're not, are you?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. I can't find it in my heart to be angry with my husband at Christmas, especially not when he's holding his favourite Christmas present in his arms…"

"It's not nice to eavesdrop, you know," he said with a would-be reproachful stare.

"I didn't intend to eavesdrop…" She shrugged and stepped to him. "Give her here a bit. I haven't even held her yet."

"All right, but just a little bit, then I want her back," Artemis said, slipping the youngest Fowl into Holly's arms.

"She looks so much like you," the fairy muttered, smiling proudly at her daughter. "I wonder if she's inherited my magic…"

"Time will tell," Artemis replied, putting his arm around his wife's shoulder. "Speaking of _time_… I think I was wrong."

"What do you mean?" She looked up at him.

"Remember the morning of our engagement?"

She nodded with a confused expression.

Artemis kissed her gently on the cheek. "That day I said 'you can't go back and change the past'. Well… apparently, you can go back, and change the future."

**THE END**

**A/N: the show's over, people. Be sure to leave a final review!**

**And now, here's a little teaser from my upcoming Bartimaeus fanfic, in case some of you are interested :)**

o o o O O O o o o

She murmured a short incantation, and three lightning bolts tore at my body at once. And not only for a second, but… I didn't even know how long. Too long, that's for sure. Some time later I realised I was lying on the floor within the pentacle, the nexus still vividly vibrating around me. My gargoyle-body was steaming at certain places.

"That was horrible, wasn't it?" a shrill voice asked.

I lifted my head a bit – though it felt extremely heavy all of a sudden – and glanced at my mistress.

"Will you talk now, Barty dear?"

"It's Bartimaeus, you tramp," I hissed from the floor. I shouldn't have. The next instant another pair of lightning bolts ran through me. I won't describe my reaction to them, for two reasons – one: detailed description of torture would turn my story M-rated and most of you wouldn't be able to read it; two: it's beneath my dignity to admit that I was screaming like an imp being ripped apart by an Uttuku, or a Sprite being tramped upon by a Horla, or… Well, you get the idea.

After a while, I opened my eyes and saw Jane Farrar staring down at me with a grim expression. "Just for your information, Barty," she said coldly, "one or two more hits like that will kill you. It's time to decide whether you want to be sentimentally loyal to John – though I really don't understand why you would – or you talk and I promise your torture will end. Choose Bartimaeus: life or death? Me or John?"

O

"So?" The Tramp asked demandingly.

"So what?" I pretended to be politely confused but hadn't really managed. I was simply too tired and battered to act natural. Don't frown like that! Why, had you, in my place, been fresh and quick-minded?

"I want a name!" she hissed.

"Zacharias," I said the first name that came to my mind.

The nexus hit me, but this time it wasn't controlled by my mistress, only its basic function had been activated. The hit had been short and mild compared to the latest ones. I was still alive.

My mistress glowered down on me.

"Hey…" I muttered, barely feeling strong enough to talk, "you wanted a name. I told you a name… You didn't specify what kind of a name you wanted…"

"I want John's birth name!" The Tramp snapped. She looked really agitated for some reason. "And you'd better tell me his _real_ birth name, or I'll send five bolts at you at once and that will kill you, demon!"

O

"You're mad, woman," I murmured.

"_You_ are mad if you're trying to defend him," she said sharply. "Why are you doing it, Bartimaeus? What has he done for you? He's just like any of us, just as evil and greedy! He isn't any different!"

No matter how hard it was, I had to admit that she was right. Once I had known a stuck-up, proud, but overall good-hearted and courageous little boy. That little boy had turned into an arrogant, selfish git who'd sell his own mother for some more power (especially after his own mother had sold him). All in all, the kid was a nasty, cold-hearted idiot who didn't deserve my sympathy and definitely didn't deserve my self-sacrifice. The question ran through my mind: _to be or not to be_? And I decided _to be_.

I gave the Tramp a patronising stare. "It's Nathaniel. Happy now?"


End file.
